After Thursday, I was hopeful. Two showing should have elicited some sort of clue to the house-selling mystery. With knowledge, comes power. (Insert other appropriate cliches here.)
Then Friday passed and no word from the realtor, who I learned last night was out of town on a camping trip with his daughters. He had no email access, so had no new info about feedback or interest.
So, instead of dwelling on non-news, let me tell you about lawn-whacking. It's a neighborhood tradition I just learned about this week--all part of a big run-up to the Fourth of July madness in Northside. Wednesday morning as I rush out the door, I'm greeted by a broken down plastic rocking horse (charming, but the stuffing leaking from his head was a definite turn off), two American flags surrounded by stems of plastic flowers and red-white-and-blue pinwheels. Oh, and a plastic hedgehog. My front yard looked decidedly patriotic, in a plastic-rocking-horse-with-leaking-head sort of way.
There was a sign, thankfully, noting that we had been lawn-whacked. Add a piece of kitsch to the collection and pass it off to another neighbor sucker within 48 hours, or, I suppose, that rocking horse head might end up inside my bed! Whoever ends up with this collection of patriotism on July 3 has to take it to the neighborhood Fourth festival, the likes of which you have to see to believe.
With the handy instruction sheet in hand, I allowed myself to enjoy the front-yard display for a day as I plotted about what to add to the pile. In the end, two small firetrucks made the cut, turning the lawn monstrosity into a mini-equivalent of a Fourth of July parade with two main floats--a nearly headless horse and a hedgehog. I traveled to the old house neighborhood to lawn-whack an old friend in the wee hours of the morning yesterday, leaving a note at their door explaining the rules and their new obligations to the future of our republic.
See why I love my neighborhood?
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