Once our family gets in the car, buckles up, and starts the engine, there’s no turning back. It’s as if the end-of-day five o-clock whistle has blown and, satisfied that we put in a good effort, we’re up and out. Certainly that’s how my husband and I felt several years ago when we settled into the minivan at three in the morning to commence our journey south.
We had just wedged our super size coffees into the cup holders, congratulating ourselves on keeping to the schedule. We’d thought of everything. And now, all we cared about was getting to Florida.
As we backed out of the drive, I looked to my right and noticed the two dilapidated Muskoka chairs that we’d tossed at the curb for garbage pick up. They were barely visible under the faint pre-dawn light of the moon. Having sat in that spot for over a week now, it was clear that neither the garbage trucks nor inventive scavengers were interested in picking them up.
“Uh-oh, I forgot about those,” I muttered to my husband. “Maybe we should put them in the garage.”
“Ah, who cares,” he waved his hand.
“They’ve been sitting there awhile now,” I argued, “And clearly, nobody is going to take them. They’re an eye sore to the neigbourhood.”
“Screw it,” Ted answered. He didn’t even waste a glance in their direction as he shifted the gear into drive.
“All right. Screw it,” I agreed. After all, a few houses up the street had left an old toilet on the curb for about a month before it was finally picked up by city workers. What was the big deal about two old broken chairs?
We forgot all about it, of course. Two weeks later, we turned down our street. I was delighted to see the chairs were gone. It wasn’t until we parked on our driveway that I discovered the pair had been crammed into our front entranceway, creating a barricade of rotting wood. Having lived at the house for only a couple of years, at this point, our neighbours seemed to care little about the strange set up outside our front door (maybe they’d been the ones to do it!) If ever there was a clear signal to burglars that a house was vacant – this was it. I’d been quite offended and, at that moment, vowed to find out what neighbour had been so put off by our old chairs that they’d felt compelled to throw them at our doorstep.
And I would have stewed about it longer had I not noticed the rally of ants all over my kitchen floor. In our hurry to depart on schedule, I’d neglected to sweep the floor and leave the kitchen in gleaming form for our return.
Lessons learned:
- Always leave a clean kitchen behind (old milk reeks!)
- Make friendly with the neigbours so they can keep an eye on your house while you’re away. They might even move a couple of beat up chairs from your front doorstep if they like you enough.
Great advice. I never considered the possiblity of popcorn getting thrust up a toddler’s nose.
too funny!!!1I would have been mad too! did you ever find out who put them there?
No I never found out who did it. I still wonder…