Friday, November 26, 2010
The lumber delivery truck pulls up the driveway as I'm on the phone with a client. It is loaded with additional bits and bobs for An Teachin - the Artist's/Writer's Cabin I'm building on the hill behind the house.
Ansa starts to bark with some degree of urgency so I fold down the conversation on the phone. Something is up.
I go out back. All this lumber, stone and cedar is piled up in front of the garage door.
"My car's in there!"
"In the garage!" (note: I don't say a**h***)
"That's where she lives, b'y!" (injecting a bit of Newfoundlandese here, notice?)
He continues stockpiling in front of the garage.
"I'll need to get my car out."
"I have to go to town - look never mind, move the stuff to the meadow. OK?"
"Are you sure?"
"Seriously. Positively. I swear on my firstborn's head."
"Well, only if you're sure now." (reluctantly)
"Oh, why would you think I wouldn't be?" (humour me)
"I wouldn't like the look of it on the meadow."
"It's not going to stay there. It's for the cabin up yonder, see?"
"Whatever you say then." Huge, sad sigh, headshake thrown in for good measure.
Ansa = 1. Delivery person = 0.
PS: Yes, picture taken today, yes, grass still green. Weather gobsmackingly gorgeous.