Letter to the Workers in Orange

Dear Construction Workers,
I saw you today too many times. I don't think your presence is coincidence. This morning you blocked my way to my internship at the station in West Valley. I saw your cars later parked at the school, taking all of the parking spots. It forced me to park across campus from my class and trudge nearly 15 minutes to class. To top it off, you decided to replace some water lines at the Communications Building-no water or restroom. You've also been replacing the main fan for many of the classrooms for several days. Class is hardly bearable as it is-now in a hundred degree heat, I curse your name while my eyes droop and sweat gathers on my brow.
You're following me. It's on the verge of becoming a stalking situation. As much as I enjoy your fluorescent orange jackets, tan utility boots and ripped jeans-I broke up with you when I left BYU-Idaho for a reason. You followed me to Utah.
The breakup must have been hard, because you are not the same anymore. This hatred you have for me has ruined my commute, classes, climate and my comfort. I have to put my foot down at some point.
I may have to take action soon. I don't want to bring in my heavy glares or swearing under my breath, I need some space.


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