. . . not because of something inside my house, but something outside. I live in a neighborhood of folks who are retired. We don’t all do our own lawns. There are many folks with trucks, lawnmowers, string trimmers and horsepower who need to make money. I understand that. I embrace that.
But what I don’t appreciate is the idiots who come, park in front of my house, jabber, yell, pull their engines to a roar, yell some more, then march down the sidewalk to cut one yard. They also have a love life which makes them answer their cell phones, idle their engines, pause, kissy kissy kissyface then start the cacophony over again.
So I marched out there with clothes over my pajamas, informed them that they are in violation of city ordinance. They did stop the kissyface telephone call but he did not call the crew back. Okay, so I went back in the house and printed out the ordinance – the pertinent part about the time. As I was marching back out, he tried to ignore me. I followed him to the truck and gave him the paper. I had done the same thing last year, he denies that I did, but after he tried to avoid me doing it today, it only proves that I did.
They finished in record time today, I wonder why?
The boss promises that he will be here after 8:30 next week. I promise that if he isn’t, I’m calling the cops on them.
Barnesversation 