This morning I was bopping around cleaning up when I noted a Grey Honda at the top of my driveway, with a guy looking down, you know, checking things out, like:
"Is this the house?"
He pulls in, too fast and SLIIIIIIIIIIIDES.... hitting a patch of ice and gets stuck in the snow. He would have hit the porch had he gone a little bit faster or further.
This is the second time in 24 hours this has happened. The water from the road pours down the drive and puddles, we obviously need drainage.
This person did not seem very, um, whatever, and I did not feel comfortable getting out and helping him push or drive his car up my driveway.
WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP COMING HERE ANYWAY? Do not answer that. I know. (If you don't know: We bought a bank-owned property, I think it was a home-based "biz." Strike that, It WAS.)
He comes to the door, looking down at his feet, and says, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I was just trying to turn around, and I got stuck. Do you have anything..." If you were turning around, you would have done so at the road. One does not pull all the way in, to turn around.
I show him my two empty buckets of salt, and my shovels, and cardboard boxes. Have at it, kid. (I would have sent Mr. MM out, but he's "got people" right now, re-doing his work.)
CAN I HAZ SPRING? Or. I love this house. It's always going to be something, can you feel it? Wait I take that back, it will be a mudslide in the spring, won't it?