I think it’s fairly safe to assume that everyone hates potholes.
But did you ever stop to think that maybe potholes have feelings too?
That’s what I was left wondering when I departed my house this morning and found myself staring at what I can only describe as a heart-shaped pothole.
At first I wondered if I had perhaps not slept enough and was in some semi-lucid dream state. But no. The reality of the situation was confirmed by my tires sinking into the pothole followed by what could only be the sound of my shocks whimpering in agony.
Sadly, I also have to say stumbling upon this heart-shaped pothole has thus far been the highlight of my week.
Working at a newspaper is a largely thankless job. And while we occasionally receive compliments, we mostly only hear from people when we do something they don’t like (which is no different than any other job). But I can’t deny now that nearing the six-month mark of my journey to Meadow Lake, that there are days I miss my former home. And there are days when I’m jaded about the newspaper industry. Today was one of those days, and seeing this heart-shaped pothole was almost like the ground had reconstructed itself to remind me that things will get better.
Either that, or we just have too many 18-wheelers driving through our residential streets.