Nice Guys Finish Axed (PART 1) : Who Goes There?

Last Tuesday, I had to get up early to go to lunch with my favorite gambling aunt. EARLY, I tell you. At the crack of 9:00 a.m. Good thing, too, because we had a visitor. Not so much a visitor as a tree-mutilator working in cahoots with the electric company.

Anyhoo...I was sitting in the La-Z-Boy perusing the innernets on HIPPIE when something yellow-green caught my eye. It was the vest of a man walking down the driveway. SHEESH! I was not at all presentable, but I had to open the door. I'm not risking a loss of electricity!

I'm sure my bed-lovely lady-mullet, blue jammie pants, yellow shirt, navy Crocs, and heather green jacket rocked his world. I opened the door as soon as I heard him on the porch. We won't discuss the nonworking doorbell at this juncture.

The guy wanted to know if they could drive their giant trimmer truck down into the BARn field. Of course Hick was on the loose somewhere else. So I made the decision.

"Sure. I don't see why not. We drive in the field all the time. Just don't go through the front yard. Enter from the gravel road over there."

"We can come back when the ground dries out, if you want."

"Might as well get it over with."

So off he went, walking back up the long driveway. Hick went ballistic when he heard.

"That's stupid! Now they'll get hung up. The ground is too wet. I'm not pulling them out with my tractor!"

Well. I'm pretty sure that tractor business wouldn't be expected. If I'd told them to come back, Hick would have been mad about that as well. I guess he needs to sit home all the time and wait to make those decisions himself...especially since he said they asked a guy up the road to SIGN a form that he wouldn't hold them responsible for damages to his property.

Anyhoo...the tree crew ended up not driving into our field that day. They went on up the gravel road to mutilate other people's trees.

Flash forward to Saturday, when I was chillin' in the La-Z-Boy, cruising the innernets, no particular place to go. It was shortly after noon. I saw a white truck coming up the driveway. A white pickup with a ladder in the back. NO WAY was I going to open that door and make a decision about tree-trimming! Funny how this truck wasn't labeled with the trimming company's logo. I couldn't read what it said. And who knew they worked on Saturdays?

I turned off the TV, skedaddled to the master bathroom, and waited. Huh. I knew the doorbell probably wouldn't ring. But I didn't hear knocking. The dogs didn't even go crazy. Oh, well. Fine with me. I got ready for town, and forgot all about it.

Until the following Thursday, when I made a connection. But you won't hear about that until Part 3. You might start putting pieces into place during Part 2, which will be coming up in two days, after the Saturday CENTSus report.