The road going into town has a small section under construction. It started two and a half weeks ago. I usually go to this nearby town four times a week, to do my paper route. So the first time I get to the construction zone, I have to detour. Not too bad; it's only 2 miles out of my way. Six hours later I came back to town, and forgot the construction. Forty-eight hours later, I came back to town again, and forgot again. Twenty hours later, the same thing. And it happened again the next week. And it happened again for the first three runs to town this week. Andrew and I keep saying that we'll remember next time that we should take the route into town that won't require a detour. But do we? Noooooo!
I'd like to blame this on old age, but that doesn't explain my spiffy young teenager's obliviousness to choosing the right path into town to avoid the backhoes and dump trucks. You know we'll finally remember for the first time when the construction is neatly finished.
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