I re-read this today and cracked up. Poor Lawnboy. How does one explain that one isn’t interested, in a way that salvages both your self-respect and their ego?
Answer: run recklessly and with wild abandon through your house, away from the front door where the poor lawn boy is waiting to just get a moment of your time, then be CAUGHT in the running away in such a way that there’s no doubt that you were running in fear.
This week’s TBT post is in honor of yesterday’s karaoke blog…obviously I’ve been a superstar since a very young age.
Enjoy this week’s Throwback Thursday post!
Originally posted on: 12/31/2008
As you may remember, I have a lawn boy.
He’s this really nice guy who recently immigrated from Mexico and he comes every two weeks or so to mow the lawn and weedeat my godawful rock wall in the front of the house. I usually pay him once a month, making arrangements for him to come get the cash while I will be at home. As a result, he has my phone number.
So recently I paid my outstanding balance, and let him know that I wouldn’t need him to come back until February. We chatted for a while, he asked where my boyfriend was, and without thinking I mentioned that we’d broken up. he commiserated, I brushed it off, he left, and that was that.
Till I started getting approximately five or six calls a day from my apparently misguided lawn boy. No messages, just call after call after call, from 8 AM until 10 PM. I didn’t answer, and quite frankly was getting a little creeped out. What could he have to talk to me about?