The rest of the story

(Read the previous post first)

Not such a hoot this morning. The wrecker guy, John, came back to help, but then his truck apparently got stuck too and he had to call another to pull him out. The guys who came with that one yelled at John for doing the job at all, saying they'd told him never to go that far off the road a million times, and that he had to call the sheriff now to file an incident report.

Sheriff? Seriously? For ruts in the lawn?

Yes, because it's private property.

Oh whatever. Just get my car out. I sat it in while John winched it (before the Others came), which was weird, moving incrementally slowly across the lawn. The sheriff's deputy was pretty much "Huh, whatever" too. (Since the truck made some ruts too, I guess they technically had to call the sheriff in order to cover their butts.) Carol, my landlady, was pretty much "whatever" as well, though she did question my thought process in driving over the lawn in the first place (understandably). And when her husband pulled up at the office while I was talking to her, she told me I'd probably better go. Heh.

So there went my good start on Saturday morning, the energy for cleaning and everything that I so need to do. Eh. Still getting some done, but really wishing I didn't have anything else going on now. Bleh.

Oh but many thanks to John for doing it at all, regardless of whether he was supposed to or not. I know he felt bad leaving me stranded, so to speak, last night. He never would've called the sheriff if not for the Others. We bonded over having lived in Florida (him, Altamonte). He's moving back in the fall, he hopes. Maybe to Apopka. Get a job working for the highway department. Hats off to you, John. Happy trails.