Not A Moment's Peace In Idyllic Hillmomba

I don't ask for much. A daily 44 oz Diet Coke. Scratchers. Internet service. TV. A clear road to town. An occasional trip to the casino. And to be left alone, to enjoy my retirement routine. Sweet Gummi Mary! That sounds like I want A LOT! I'm not that demanding. Really.

Nothing rattles my cage and gripes my gizzard like an INTRUDER! My Mansion is my castle. Don't invite yourself into my fiefdom. I would release the hounds if I had any with an exemplary work ethic. Copper Jack is the closest to my wish list.

Friday morning (and by morning, I mean noon), I sat at HIPPIE in front of the living room window, roaming the innernets. A bronze-colored, medium-sized SUV crept along the gravel road, headed out of the enclave. I knew I'd seen that BCMS SUV somewhere. I assumed it was out here. I remembered it by the decal on the side. We have residents who work for a local lake development's police/security. Maybe that was it. Why was that BCMS SUV driving so slow?

What in the NOT-HEAVEN! I thought it had passed, once it disappeared behind the trees that block my view of where the dumpster sits on trash day. But HERE CAME THE BCMS SUV DOWN MY DRIVEWAY!

That's the last thing I wanted to deal with! The Pony was still lolling around in his room. Probably not dressed presentably. LIKE ME! I was in my holey pajama pants and a threadbare button-down shirt that is nearly see-through. I had bed-head! But here was a bronze-colored, medium-sized SUV pulling up to the Mansion, needing to be dealt with. I told The Pony,

"I'm not EVEN dealing with this!"

BUT THEN IT STARTED TO HONK!

Dang it! The dogs were raising a ruckus. I could hear all three out by the carport. My force of my sigh might have been felt later as a zephyr halfway around the world. I went to the door and looked out. Called to Juno and Jack. They obediently trotted up the brick sidewalk to stand at my feet for a pat. Copper Jack continued to prance around the BCMS SUV, barking his fool head off. I waited to see who was getting out.

NO ONE!

A gray-haired lady in the passenger seat started hollering to me. Great. I walked to the end of the porch, cupped my hand around my ear, and said, "I can't hear you." The BCMS SUV drove closer to the garage. Moving the gray-haired passenger lady about two feet closer.

"I'M FROM THE COUNTY ASSESSOR'S OFFICE!"

"Okay."

"WE'RE HERE TO UPDATE OUR RECORDS."

"Okay."

Nothing. She just sat there. That was a funny way to update records! I guess maybe she was scared of Copper Jack.

"That's not our dog. I can't do anything about him. My dogs here with me are fine. That one barks a lot. I've never known him to bite."

"We just want to take pictures. We won't bother you."

"Okay."

I turned, gave a couple of goodbye pats, and went back inside. After a few minutes, I saw a dude walking across the front yard with an open laptop balanced on his left forearm. He went down Shackytown Boulevard, with Copper Jack trailing him, tail tucked between his legs, barking with alarm. My own dogs sat on the porch. I praised them through the window. They had quit barking, since I had come out and apparently approved this intruder.

Less than five minutes later, The Dude came back. He had his eye on Copper Jack without looking at him, if you know what I mean. Not challenging him. Copper Jack turned to run ahead of him, back toward the BCMS SUV. Still barking.

The ASSessors must have gotten enough info to raise our taxes sufficiently. Their BCMS SUV turned around and crept back up the driveway. I told Farmer H that they'd probably count each of his themed sheds as a new building, and charge us accordingly.

"They can't. My sheds are on runners. They're not permanent structures. But they probably got the Freight Container Garage. I'm sure they knew about it anyway. But not its exact size."

"Too bad it's not on runners!"

"It WAS on runners! The two containers. Until I poured the foundation and set them on it."

"That Dude wasn't here long enough to measure it."

"They have a program that does it. They can draw a line from corner to corner, and it tells them."

"Huh. That must be why he had the laptop, and not a camera."

I don't begrudge the ASSessor's Office collection of data to raise our taxes. I kind of enjoy having a bridge that doesn't flood every time we have a downpour, and roads that are blacktop and not gravel, and I don't mind supporting the local school district, community college, and emergency services.

I DO mind them showing up without notice, and seeming like they wanted me to do their job for them. Surely we're not the first house to have dogs running around. The old UPS lady carried dog biscuits for that purpose, and the ex-mayor my sister's husband carried a baseball bat to use as a persuader, back when he was a meter-reader for the electric company.

A phone message giving notice of an impending visit, perhaps with the date, or even a postcard, would have elicited more good will than a surprise visit and honking from the driveway...