So my neighbor stops by last night and says, "I'm returning something to your boys." He hands me a half eaten dill pickle, which my 13 year old threw over the fence into their pool. Of course he denies it, even though there are three witnesses (his brothers) that say he did it. I apologize. I make him apologize, even though he claims innocence, but then, he is ALWAYS innocent. I don't know how it happened but my house has become THAT house. You know, that house that always has a gang of boys hanging around it with weeds a mile high, that all the neighbors are just estimating the years til all the boys grow up and leave. All I really need is a rusty major appliance and the back seat from a truck to sit out on my front porch and I'm set.
But to at least make amends for my shabby yard, I went out this morning to mow the weeds. The grass doesn't need mowing yet, just the weeds since we didn't pretreat. But when the mower we bought just last year started smoking to high heaven, I had to use the old one. It works fine as long as you pull it backwards, until it just quits for an hour or so. So the yard is half-way done now, the tallest weeds gone. Oh, man, my reputation of being THAT neighbor is fixed. Oh well, maybe I should embrace it.