So 'twas on a Monday morning that the gas-man came to call
Because I hardly ever pay attention to it as a holiday, I always forget that Patriots' Day is so geographically bizarre, by which I mean that since it is tied to the Battles of Lexington and Concord and the Battle of Menotomy it would make much more sense if like Evacuation Day it were functionally a Boston-area holiday or even celebrated only within Massachusetts and Maine and instead for some reason which may just be nationalism states as far-flung from the original thirteen colonies as South Dakota and Florida have since gotten in on the act. Around this time of year in the late eighteenth century, the colonial observance would have been Fast Day, which as a ritual of atonement must explain the stapled packet of pages popped through our mail slot this afternoon to notify us that for the next ten to twenty-four weeks we can expect construction every day on our street starting indefinitely soon. At least now I know what the serpentine pile of plastic pipe at the top of the street has been doing, taking up three parking spots. I am neither morally nor scientifically against the installation of a new gas main, especially since the cast-iron pipe being replaced is delicately described in the city materials as "vintage." I just want to sleep ever again in my life.

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NOOOOOOOOOOOO.
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I ATEN'T THRILLED.
(How can it take six months to lay pipe on a street this short? We have maybe six, eight houses on each side. I understand it's not a one-shot process, especially if the company wants not to blow up any houses, but there's physically not that much space!)
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Based on recent enjoyment of the Big Dig podcast
https://www.wgbh.org/podcasts/the-big-dig
Boston’s streets are an unholy Tetris of water, gas, electricity, transportation tunnels, ratty raceways, internet fiber and graft.
It’s entirely possible that the contractors have no information about the placement of any or all of this infrastructure, which turns a gas supply line replacement into a scavenger hunt.
None of which makes this any more pleasant for you!
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I like your inclusion of that last element.
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I cherished these brief months without cartoonishly loud crash-bang-boom noises in our immediate vicinity!
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"I just want to sleep ever again in my life" is a great sentence.
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That's entertainment!
"I just want to sleep ever again in my life" is a great sentence.
It's true, too.
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I hope the copywriter's boss congratulated them.
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I bet if it breaks it's artisanal.
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Speaking as a transplant, my impression is that for a while our tax returns were processed through an MA site. Patriot's Day being a holiday meant that we got an extra day to complete and return our taxes. We were all therefore grateful for its existence.
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Honestly I am delighted to hear this. Thank you for weighing in.
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Right? The worst. One of it!
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Oh, no. May I hope they have done their work around the other corner and moved on?
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Oh, jeez, that's so horrifying I just laughed.
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We have potholes of doom to the point that I wish I could enclose a note with my taxes saying "road maintenance and infrastructure repair please," but to my knowledge we do not have (keyn-ahora) sinkholes!
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That gas pipe could be around 125 years old, at least, right? Unless it was put down in the 1920s, which was probably the last big gas-laying period for a city as built up as yours.
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I had no idea. Cedar pipe!
That gas pipe could be around 125 years old, at least, right? Unless it was put down in the 1920s, which was probably the last big gas-laying period for a city as built up as yours.
I have been unable to find any statements on the exact or even approximate age of gas main about to be replaced on our street (the asphalt has been spray-painted like ritual magic, traffic cones are proliferating in former parking spots), but I am hoping to get a look at it when it comes out of the ground and perhaps be able to date it that way. If it's anything like the rest of the infrastructure around here, it can't imagine it's remotely recent. Somerville was a streetcar suburb in the nineteenth century. You can tell because it is very unfriendly to cars in the twenty-first.