Half Empty

I live on a busy road, which offers a whole lot of convenience plus some pretty extreme noise pollution at peak hour. Before moving here, I wouldn’t have thought there were enough people in the area to warrant such a din, but I guess it is the main artery between two towns, and people need to get around somehow. Still, I could just about swear that people are just getting up in the morning and driving up and down the road all day with the sole intention of inserting screeching and revving sounds into my earholes.

Point is, now that everyone’s quarantined in their homes for the foreseeable future, the road noise has slackened off significantly. Like everyone else, I’m home at all hours, so the reduction in vehicular caterwauling is quite apparent to me. I actually managed to sleep past 6am this morning, which is quite an achievement for a Monday in March.

There are still a few people out and about, though. I wonder where they’re going? Are they off to the shops for a furtive scan of the toilet paper aisle? On their way to work at a medical centre or government office? Perhaps they’re hoping to squeeze in a few errands that they’ve been putting off, such as a car service centre. Bentleigh has a workshop that’s doing its darnedest to keep its doors open, or so I’ve heard from my mum, who’s been keeping a sharp eye out for this type of thing.

In the absence of a face-to-face social life, she’s taken to closely observing public goings-on with what seems like an unnecessary amount of eagerness. Maybe I should ask her to suss out whether my usual mechanics are open for business, because now would probably be a good time to get those (worryingly overdue) brake repairs. In Moorabbin, there should be a couple of places open, but maybe not my usual one.

Come to think of it, mum’s probably doing her spying by driving around in her car. She’s one of these mysterious out-and-about drivers! Huh.