Allow me to voice my extreme displeasure with the Highway Dept. of Bastrop-freaking-Louisiana.

Friday, we, the people of Wardville Rd., received a flyer in the mail informing us our road would be closed on Monday, March 23rd, starting at 9AM (weather permitting.) A sunny Monday came and went without any road closures.

Tuesday morning, 7:30AM, I get up and dress for work. Come 9:10AM, I leave for work. (I work at Hollister in Monroe and my shift begins at 10AM.) What do I see out my car window once I reach the end of my driveway? A GYNUMBIS PILE OF DIRT DUG UP JUST YARDS DOWN THE ROAD, CREATING A HUGE-A** TRENCH. The damage is so advanced there is no way they started at 9AM.

Seeing as how I live on a dead-end and the road is flanked by Bayou Bartholomew on the left and a muddy crop-field on the right, I am trapped. Of course, I'm angry at this so I drive up to the trench, get out of my car, and take on my best "you-and-your-giant-shovel-have-seriously-pissed-me-off" stance. (Basically, this is just standing there, arms crossed over my chest and jaw set resolutely.)

I tap my foot and wait for the man to stop what he is doing and address me in the apologetic tone I so richly deserve. He finally does. He tells me they will be done by dinner and asks if I will be late for work.

I can feel my ass turning red.

I tell him yes and I am due for work at 10. He says, "Sorry," and climbs back into his shovel. I drive 30 miles an hour in reverse, hurl my car back into drive, and haul heiney down my driveway. I stomp into my house, find the flyer from Friday, locate the number at the bottom, and angrily dial my cell.

A woman answers. "Whom do I address about the unexpected closure of a road?" I try to sound polite but concerned. She laughs nervously and replies she is the one and is quick to point out I must live on Wardville. "Yes, yes I do live on Wardville. I received a flyer saying this would happen yesterday. Not today. Yesterday. Today makes me miss work."

"Oh, I'm sorry. The man over it didn't show up for work yesterday. We didn't know if the weather was even going to let us do it today or I would have made more flyers."

My right eye has gone into a twitching fit.

"Oh," I say simply.

"I'm very sorry. But it shouldn't take them long! They should be done in a couple of hours!"

This makes me grit my teeth. My shift at Hollister is only 5 hours long. Leaving at noon would put me there at nearly 1PM which means I would work for 2 hours. 2 hours of wages won't even pay for the gas to drive there.

There is a brief period of awkward silence on the phone. "Well, I guess there is nothing I can do about it now. Bye." I hang up and make an angry gesture which probably looks something like a seizure. Missing work is a big deal since I get so few hours as is and I'm trying to set an example in hopes I will get more hours, (which the management seems to be eager to give me.) Calling in less than one hour before I am due hardly pegs me as a responsible model who is deserving of more hours.

Face it, kids; You can't make a living and go back to college on 10 hours a week.

Also, I like my job. AND I woke up at 7:30AM. If you know me and how much I love sleep, this is a VERY big deal. I'm not a morning person. Before you say, "Well, Casey, now you can just go back to sleep," keep in mind I've been awake for over 2 hours now, had a shower, applied the minimum amount of make up suited to Hollister regulations, had a cup of coffee, etc. So I'm wide wake and ready for the day.

I rant to my sleepy parents about how I think the Highway Dept. should have to pay me my hourly wages. They tell me to calm down and all that garbage. It doesn't work. I am still livid. What can I do?

I can write an angry blog on myspace, that's what.

In other words, I can do absolutely nothing.

Frick.