To this day, on Monday mornings, when I wheel that unwieldy monster trash can to the curb, I look up, give "the look", and say under my breathe, "Not my job!" Then, for good measure, I give the trash can a swift kick. What do you bet, he's looking down at me with that quirky grin on his face saying "Atta girl! Give 'em hell!" Do you ever have Monday morning temper tantrums? You, who has outlived her husband?
One of my worst temper fits happened when I was mowing the lawn shortly after my husband died. We had a very small lot. Using the bagger, it was only "one bag full". Zip. Zip. All done. Except this day, as I was making a finally swatch across the front yard, a wheel fell off. Mowing had always been my job, but fixing broken stuff was not. I found the escaped bolt, reinserted it through the wheel and the whatever-it's-called part of the mower, then realized the nut was still missing. The yard is small, but the grass is high. I'm on my hands and knees separating blades of grass, looking for all the world like a mama monkey searching though her baby's fur for bugs, when my neighbor arrives home for lunch.
Bob, my young neighbor, is a big guy - 6' 3" at least. While we never socialized much, we were on friendly terms. Seeing me there, with my nose to the ground and my butt in the air, he walked over to check things out. Immediately assessing my dilema, and sympathically offering to "fix things" was all I needed to unleash a flurry of expletives I didn't even know I knew, then collapse into uncontrollable sobs. Bob was way out of his comfort zone with this scary woman who had outlived her husband. He gave me a little pat, then hurried back to his house to scrounge up a nut. I noticed after that day, Bob seemed to avoid being anywhere near when that mower came out of the garage. Did you ever put the fear of God in a neighbor by your WIDOW behavior?
Sandy
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