So yesterday I and several neighbors attended a city planning hearing regarding a large construction project in our neighborhood. We were there as appellants, to speak about how the project will likely impact our peaceful streets. I don’t know why, but the whole thing had stressed me out.


But I was also managing my expectations. Having received a letter from the city managers last week, a letter supporting the project and rejecting our appeal, I fully accepted that the hearing would probably go the way of the developers and not the neighbors. But I did still have to speak at the hearing, so I knew I needed to get ready.


It’s not like in the movies. It doesn’t matter how impassioned you are, or how prepared. The commissioners have the unenviable job of listening to all comers. And some of us are ding-dongs. I had written out my comments and timed my presentation, so that I wouldn’t have to hear a danged buzzer go off during my speech. And just before I left the house, Mister checked in with me and reminded me there was no need to be nervous. That I was indeed prepared and that it would be over soon enough. Turned out he was right. I even smiled when I approached the podium. Before I knew it, my part was done and the panel voted on our appeal. They sided with the developer.


After speaking with neighbors and a few folks from our neighborhood council, I drove my elderly neighbor home and we talked about the olden days. I dropped him off and parked the car.


Once I was inside and getting ready for dinner, I decided to change out of my meetin’ clothes, into some loungin’ clothes. And that’s when I saw it. I had a booty-hole in my fancy pants. I guess that explains why some folks didn’t want to talk to me at the meeting. And why some most certainly did.

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