How I learned to stop worrying, and love the neighborhood
George was walking the dog around here a few weeks ago. At one point, Root Beer was doing his thing on a dusty patch of pacasandra (sp?) when the owner of the house it surrounded waved furiously to him from her window. He waved back prompting her to came outside.
“You know, I wasn’t actually waving at you. I was motioning for you to get your dog off my lawn. We’ve just had it landscaped.”
Refreshing how honest people are in these parts!
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