The Lady at the Bus Stop has her Demands

Should we run into each other today – and stranger things have happened! – you may notice that the tip of the thumbnail on my right hand is black.

Or, you may just notice my sparkling eyes. I have that effect on people.

Then again, odds are just as good that you’ll notice the blackened end of my right thumb, because once again, in an effort to clean up Our Fair City, I’ve soiled myself.

Or something to that effect.

You see, I hate graffiti. Do what you like with your own stuff, but leave my bus stop alone.

That’s right. I said “my bus stop”. It’s mine. Mine! Through eight years of steady patronage, including my fight to actually have the structure put into place and including the daily litter-picking-up service that I provide throughout my neighborhood, it’s mine.

Frankly, the whole neighborhood is mine. Just ask me.

And I’m tired of it being defaced.

So here’s what I want to see happen:

Just because someone’s written/scribbled on something doesn’t mean you have to leave it there. Cover it. Right away. If it’s city property, call 311.

That mail box hanging off the post by a nail. Maybe you re-affix it, put a fresh coat of paint on it? Even that large-mouth bass mailbox you’ve been secretly coveting would be an improvement.

I want people to sweep the sidewalks in front of their houses – not just some of us! All of us. I have a neighbor that takes a knife to the edges of his yard, runs it along where the grass meets the concrete. Talk about nice-looking! Wheee-doggie. I’m not suggesting we all do that, but really, if you do? There should be some sort of tax break, don’t you think?

And window cleaning. What’s happened to window cleaning? I know it’s a drag, but dagnabit people, I want to see my face in your window!

Which reminds me: what I do not want to see in your window is your butt. While I appreciate that you work out – and frankly, it shows! – I don’t want to know that you cook in the nude. You keep that up, you’re gonna burn something that shouldn’t get burned. If you’re not going to have respect for the people walking by, won’t you at least think of the Emergency Room personnel?

I have a list of other demands, but I think you get the picture. Every day, the snow pushes back just a little further; and under that pretty white snow are the cigarette butts, bus transfers, candy wrappers, and, perhaps, even lost gloves of this last season.

Spring is coming. Let’s greet it.

And put some dang pants on.