Soon, I have to go south. My clean clothing, including my untorn pants, is in my storage unit, and I need to change; but much more specifically, I'm out of clean masks, so need to do laundry after I change. Since my storage unit closes at 6 P.M., this demands a fairly tight schedule.
So it was unhelpful today to find this:
The first time I called the department today, at 8:57, when I asked to be transferred to the maintenance line, the voice mail system gleefully hung up on me. The other two times, 9:17 and also 12:02 P.M., I was indeed connected to the maintenance voice mail system, which each time tried and failed to find a dispatcher, then offered me the chance to leave a voice mail, which would be answered the next business day.
Well, it must demand a lot of personnel to close Cal Anderson Park, especially while the voice mail system's self-introduction continues to insist that "All parks are open". And it's not as though I'd been calling every time I found BGPP's restrooms locked. I've figured it's OK to call about parks I'll never see again, Northacres or Salmon Bay, but closed local restrooms are your whole point, dear Diary, and I shouldn't encourage the department, by calling every week, to take special care of my preferred parks and distort my field of view.
So it was my hubris, in thinking I could pick the day I'd shower and change clothes, that caused the problem, and if I just accept that such decisions are better left to the gods of the parks, doubtless things will improve. And improve they must, if, as seems increasingly likely, I remain stuck in this way of life until a vaccine is widely in use.
My next planned page in you, dear Diary, needs to be up to date, so demands either a bus journey or a rather long hike. I may shuffle the order, or you may not hear from me until I get permission to smell better.
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