There are a triplet of construction projects within a mile of my home. Bridges that need upkeep, a new sidewalk, and general maintenance have necessitated the brigade of orange cones and workers standing in the hot sun holding up signs. One side says "STOP". The other swivels to read "SLOW". I do not envy them the job in two-shower-a-day weather. Endless lines of commuters, filled with people in a hurry. Still it will be marvelous to have the improvements, and said as much to Ben. 

"Soon we can walk to Be Well safely! Let's do that when it's done."

Walkers will be able to stride beside the road holding hands, rather than navigating the narrow shoulder. 

Another crew is near our favorite Mexican restaurant, and at rush hour the delay can be a nuisance. It slows everybody down. 

The entire process requires waiting. When the stream of traffic is coming toward you, you idle. If it is your turn, you and the cars behind you can proceed. One way at a time keeps the workers safe. Even a glow in the dark jacket won't protect you from a minivan going twenty five. I wonder if there is ever a time when there are simply no cars.

Lately my intention is to respond to the interruption by being curious. Normally I try not to rubber neck, but if I am parked, there are all manner of heavy equipment to look at. Ben and I chat about Bob the Builder. 

In my effort to not judge people I have noticed a workable strategy. When negative comments come streaming in one after another, I can wait. Take a breath. Then send the energy in the opposite direction. 

"I wish her well."

"We had a delightful time together last summer."

"I wonder how his job is going."

It turns out that this modest flow is enough to keep the critical one at bay. Almost as if I am standing there wearing a reflective vest and holding a red octagon. 

It slows everything down. Plus I can almost picture a time when there will be no mental congestion  at all.