They started at 9 a.m. Saturday morning. The lawn mowers. The leaf blowers. The weed whackers. The hedge trimmers.
My neighbors are obsessed. Their lawns are immaculate (except that one house where the drug dealers live). Whenever one machine stopped another one began.
All of this activity ruined my plans for the weekend: To sleep late, nap often and spend all of my time on the porch in the hammock.
So now I'm cranky.
Actually, I'm cranky for a lot of reasons, but this was just the icing on the cupcake.
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4 comments:
I get that rage too. I've developed a tolerance for lawnmowers, but the leaf-blower wielding bastards have to die.
Want to join my vigilante group?
I think I'll start a Web site: getarake.com.
But then, dotcomments, your crankitude is hilarous, so I'm not sure I WANT them to be quiet.
And is everybody out there gittin' all gussied up for Derby weekend?
(asks a Kentucky gal who's a long way from home this weekend...)
Kath: I think I could tolerate YOUR tunes.
Martha: Derby? Is that a type of hat? I'm so cranky that I'm leaving town.
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