You know your front yard must be pretty bad if even the J.W's are avoiding your house.
Yesterday, I had to sprint out to my car parked in the driveway, to grab Nash's shoes or his toy truck or something silly like that, when I noticed two fifty-ish sort of men dressed in those old polyester tan ranch cut suits like my grandpa used to wear, walking to my neighbors front door carrying a briefcase and some paper leaflets. I knew who they were instantly. Had I not heard them knock? Which direction were they heading? I looked down to the end of the street past my neighbors house where a congregation of similarly dressed people gathered. Yep, they'd passed on my house. Why I wondered.
I looked towards my front door and the clover-covered lawn that led to it. A few flowers in pots on my porch screamed to be cutback and watered, but it's been a hot summer, yeesh! My shrubs are overgrown, but hey, they provide much needed privacy in this boxed-in neighborhood! Oils stains on the driveway. Hmm.. Car needs a paint job. Big ding in the door. No biggie. I wondered if I'd forgotten to take down my "I love Obama" sign from the window. Did they really look that close?
And then my eyes drifted to intermittent piles of debris scattered where-ever all over my lawn. What was this I gasped! And then I knew. Empty scrunched Diet Coke cans deposited not in the recycle bin, but on my front lawn by none other than my husband. Front lawn = garbage can when he cleans out his car.
What is it with men and the ease at which they leave garbage strung about??I quickly picked up the cans - again, and slunked quietly into my house, looking just over my shoulder at the two religious prospectors next door, now moving onto the next mining opportunity that was obviously far away from my already empty shaft.
Did I really care that much?
I frowned to myself.