I waved at the man driving the gigantic dump truck, the public works man who I see all the time on my walks with Lily. If I were ever to get a regular job it would be as a public works person. I'd wear a glow-yellow sweatshirt and join in with the guys and dig ditches. I'd fill potholes with hot asphalt that looks like crumbled Oreo cookies. In winter I'd drive the Zamboni around the ice rink melting the scratches into a sleek smooth surface. I'd plow the streets during snowstorms and drink hot coffee in the heated man-hut on my break. In summer I'd drive the city street sweeper through Woonsocket's downtown. I'd be one of the city's devoted housekeepers.
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