Two clueless in the canyon, throwing blocks because (I have no idea…), swooped ‘em at the first two passing spots, got all the way down to the site with no incidents; nothing to report.
Will visit Building & Safety again this morning, try number 4, this time with copies of licenses (wtf?…never had them ask for this before—Okay, boss...)
I step out now, clipboard, pen, and glasses—the neighbors are still quiet in their tent, cops having rousted them 5x now in eight or nine weeks, to no avail. They even suggested that I should call. No, I don’t think that I will.
The one neighbors wife (I assume) is over there, on the path, a little lady from the South Pacific (so judgmental am I ) walking that huge silver pitbull that the other neighbor, the older gentleman who often stops and talks with his two dogs (Aussie Sheppard and large Rott) says is violent, I giggle as I see her tugging, running in place. That dog knows he could eat her in one big bite, and he’s not particularly interested in going that direction, her preferred direction, so there she is, tugging, all five-feet two, ninety-two pounds of her, running in place the other way.
She’ll be back later to run on her own and I get a giggle… Think it’s her husband that calls the cops.