The ordeal of the tree

It’s been a busy few weeks around my house, culminating tonight in an event I’ve come to call _The Ordeal of The Tree._

Think of this as one of those rants from a jilted someone. The city of Cleveland, a fine city that I’ve grown to love, has pissed me off with its rather sluggish response to a neighborhood issue; a neighborhood issue planted in my yard.

Coming home tonight, I got a call from my husband, warning me that there were power lines down in the vicinity of our house. Nothing special, just normal storm aftermath ’round here. Nothing registered until I tried to make the turn that normally takes me to our home on West 140 Street. Caution tape everywhere and a whole lot of leaves. No turn.

I went around the block, parked, and affirmed my fear. It was the tree that we share(d) with our neighbors, now laying across W. 140th. _Wonderful._

The tree fell around 4 ‘o’ clock. It’s now nearly eleven, the city just got around to cutting the tree into suitable pieces to deposit on our lawns, for us to further break down and remove. Once they get the tree into pieces they can move with machinery, it’s our problem. Six hours to arrive at _our_ problem, which is ours physically and monetarily. Our tax dollars at work.