A strange miasma pervades the air. It is not noxious enough to cause dizziness as it did two or three years ago when I called the gas company. It comes and goes, as the gas representative said then, but what is it?
On a typical morning the "quiet jets" are roaring overhead at 7 a.m. The street sweeper has been by, and the trash and paper pickup trucks are coming. The yacht basin behind us is under reconstruction with constant noise from heavy trucks and equipment.
Our neighbors have a construction project going outside our side fence. Our streets are about to be torn up for new water pipes. Our harbor is polluted, and the fish in coastal waters aren't safe to eat. Winter storms might cause the Prado Dam to collapse and the Santa Ana River channel to overflow. Even the U.S. Marines are dumping on us.
The good ole back-scratchers in our local governments can't force us out to make way for progress--they're going to kill us off.