Robert’s been out-of-town for a couple of days, visiting his relatives on the east coast. So I’m here, for the first time, alone, in the new house. Alone. In the suburbs. All has been going fabulously well until this morning.
I woke up to the sound of chainsaws.
Chainsaws, at an ungodly hour. “WHO IS USING A CHAINSAW at this hour?” I said, (but I said it in a different way, with other not-so-nice words included)
I looked outside, and surprise!
We were the ones rude enough to be using chainsaws at that hour. (Hi Neighbors! We’re new here, don’t mind the noise.) The tree trimmers were in our back yard, trimming the silver maples. Not only in our backyard, but up in the trees:
Robert had arranged for them to come about 5 weeks ago, and of course, they were completely booked up with all the storm damage around here lately. He called them on Friday and told them not to come until he got back from his trip. He wanted to be here to give them the official tree-trimming instructions. Tree trimming falls under Robert’s house jurisdiction, along with garbage removal, recycling, and anything to do with the cars – except gas. I can get the gas. And festive tree-trimming at holiday time, that’s all me.
They were supposed to come on Wednesday. Today is Monday. They just started cutting branches off trees without even talking to me. Let a chainsaw be my alarm clock. And the wood chipper, which sounded like a jet engine taking off in our backyard.
You’ll recall that the reason we decided to hire tree trimmers in the first place was because of the New House Tree Limb Falling On The Roof and Scaring Pam Half To Death Episode, recounted here.
Poor Squirrels, who I’m sure are completely freaked out from the men climbing all over their branches and cutting them off.
Poor Naked Trees. It’s autumn, so as the leaves continue to fall, they will fit right in with the other naked trees in the neighborhood.
PS – GO RED SOX!