Friday mornings are a lazy time here at the Mansion. Oh, who are we kidding... EVERY day is a lazy day here at the Mansion. But on Fridays, Farmer H goes off to his Storage Unit Store early. Then he takes his friend to her cancer treatments. Then he has lunch and goes Goodwilling until time to pick up his friend. Then he goes to shoot the bull with his buddy This Guy, who sold us the $5000 house. Then he gets his shot. So he doesn't get home until around 4:30-5:00.
I sleep in.
I was happily snoozing away, probably sawing logs like a lumberjack, when something startled me awake. Copper Jack was barking his fool head off.
POUND POUND POUND!
What in the Not-Heaven? Where was that coming from? Too forceful for the squirrel circus around the metal self-feeder for the dogs on the back porch--
POUND POUND POUND!
Hey! That was KNOCKING on the front door! Sweet Gummi Mary, who could be knocking at my front door at the NOT-HEAVENLY hour of 9:20 in the morning???
POUND POUND POUND!
Aw, Not-Heaven, NO! I was not about to drag myself to the front door in my pajamas, with bed-head, to see what some random pounder wanted, trespassing up in this private-homeowners' enclave!
The pounding stopped. I was wide awake. I crept to the living room. Couldn't see anyone through the slim windows beside the front door. I peeped through the mini-blinds of the big window by HIPPIE.
TWO MEN WERE WALKING DOWN SHACKYTOWN BOULEVARD!
One was stocky, like The Veteran, and walked like him, too. The other was nondescript. They continued to the BARn field. Copper Jack followed, at a respectable distance, still barking menacingly. They made a right turn to walk up through the field toward the gravel road. The Veteran never would have done that. He would have parked at the BARn, or driven over to the front yard or driveway.
The only visitors I could think of would be the tree-trimmers who showed up a few months ago, wanting to trim trees for the electric company, but the ground was too muddy.
On the way home from town, beside the Creach (Creek Beach), I passed a Townsend Tree Service truck, pulling a woodchipper, coming out of our compound, .
Mystery solved. I am SO glad I didn't get up to open the door for that.
4 comments:
Waaaait! Does that mean those shacks have electricity? If so, start easing them into living in a couple of them.
Force Farmer H and The Pony into spending a few hours every day in their own private abodes. Increase the time an hour or so every day, until they're spending all day--every day--in their shack.
And you will have the house all to yourself...
(So now you're channeling old movies? Fountain/countin'?)
Ooh! I HATE being woken by a pounding on the door. I have a security screen door in place, so it's more a heavy rattling than a pounding, but just as bad. It hasn't happened since my nasty pet killing neighbour moved out almost two and a half years ago.
It's a good thing Copper Jack was there to escort them off the premises.
Sioux,
One of them does for sure, because Farmer H leaves a radio playing inside. I don't know why! I think it's the Little Barbershop of Horrors.
The BARn was built before the Mansion. The main electric line for our property comes from a pole at the edge of the BARn field. Then it runs to the Mansion. So if trees grow unruly between BARn and house, they could take down a line in a storm.
***
Sioux 2,
Yes. That's the title, conveniently having COIN in it, a me scoring a trifecta with the pennies this week.
***
River,
I wish I knew where my own cowardly fleabags were at the time!
Post a Comment