You Can't Get There From Here

I just got home from the grocery store. We don't live that far away, but the drive took long enough for my ice cream bars to melt, my hamburger buns to mold and my milk to turn to cottage cheese.
The streets are torn up for repairs, Usually the work just made for slow going, but today it was almost impossible to get home.
After weaving through on-lane traffic where a bridge is being rebuilt, I arrived at the street leading to our neighborhood. It was barricaded.
I thought about driving around the barricade, but decided the work crews down the street wouldn't be very happy if I put tire tracks on the new surface.
If I were to drive a little father. . . then weave my way back through a nearby neighborhood, I would end up at the bottom of my hill.
All I would need to do is cross the street being surfaced, drive up the hill and into my driveway!
When I reached this point, it was also barricaded. I would have driven around the barricade, but trucks were parked on wither side.
I thought about getting out of the car and moving the barricade. Once again the presence of workmen on the road discouraged my boldness.
Instead I sat in the car to consider my options, and figured I didn't have many. I backed down the street, turned around and began driving.
When I passed the home of a friend- one I used to think lived really close to me-she was outside getting the mail, so I stopped.
"I'm trying to get home, but I can't figure our how to do it," I said.
"You have a problem," Esther said. "Maybe you could try going down and turning by the nursery."
This wasn't a possibility that appealed to me. It meant going back to the road with the bridge out and the section of one-lane traffic.
Now that the rush hour was creeping closer, the cars were creeping along. Eventually, someone let me into the traffic and we crept along together. I was patient because my turn was not far away.
Once again, my routing plans went awry. A "no left turn" sign and an approaching police car put turning out of the question.
I drove until I could turn around in the parking lot of a muffler shop. I drove back to make a legal turn. Once I did this, getting home was finally an achievable goal.
I don't want to complain. I should be grateful that I have a car and that I live in an area where road maintenance is important. I can't help but be frustrated by the annual summer road work.
One advantage of living in this part of the country is that we don't have the traffic congestion found in larger cities. Yet our opportunities to enjoy this advantage seem few.
When travel around town isn't slowed by widening and resurfacing, it's slowed by the peril of winter ice and snow.
After a long winter of sliding into stop signs and cars and sometimes off the road, everyone is happy to see spring arrive, even if it means the beginning of street construction and repair.
But tempers seem to heat up with summer temperatures, as we cool our heels in a hot car that is not moving.
The solution? Getting a helicopter is an idea. I wonder if any grocery store has a helipad?