Tree Trauma Trun'k'ated
Stop the presses! Light the fireworks! The tree trimmers finally arrived (Thursday) and trimmed the tree in my backyard! As I mentioned in the July 1st post, my next door neighbor, Ms. Fossil has been losing sleep over my tree's branches hanging precariously over her storage shed in her back yard, like some dark evil. She's been relentless in calling me to check on the status of the trimming. Thank god, they came when they did. I was beginning to search online for Jim Jones' Kool-Aid recipe.
So, the guys (5) show up at 8:30 and I take the guy who seems to be in charge, to the back and we go over which branches are to be cut. I'm kinda nervous, because (again), English isn't his forte, so I end up using my hands a lot, when talking to him about what limbs need to be removed, etc. I inadvertently pick a large branch that wasn't one of the ones that was included in the original estimate, and he said it was way too big and that it would cost more, so I just told him to go ahead and cut the ones closest to her shed's roof and that that should be fine. So, before they can get to work, I have to call Ms. Fossil and let her know that they have to get into her backyard. I call and alert her and then all systems are go.
I don't want to be under the tree trimmer's ass the entire time he's working, like my mom used to do whenever we had service men out, or breathing down their neck, like when the clerk at the grocery store was ringing up the groceries (that was "quiet time" and any conversation from me was met with a "Shush!" through gritted teeth. Thanks, mom). However, I had to keep vigil on Ms. Fossil's yard, via the den window, in case she decided to waddle out there and "coach." I told the guy when he first got here, that she might try to come out and dictate which branches to cut, but reminded him that she ain't payin' for it/ So, should there be any doubts, just come get me and I'd be more than happy to help clear up any misconceptions. Well, Ms. Fossil must have realized it was in her best interest (and health) that she stay safely indoors. Afterall, we wouldn't want any of those nasty branches driving her sweet, little body into the ground, like some sort of gray-haired tent spike, now would we?
So, about an hour and a half passes (I had lots of brush piles, too), and the guy comes to the door to let me know they're finished. He goes with me to the backyard to check it out, and 'lo and behold, who do you think magically appears, like some sort of geriatric leprechaun? You guessed it. Ms. Fossil. She's already there, inspecting. First off, let me say they did an amazing job. It looks really great and made a world of difference. They picked up ALL the debris from trimming the tree and even got the few dead branches (all 5) that had fallen from my tree (the ones she's been obsessing over and repeatedly reminding me of, for the past month).
I'm really pleased, but guess who has 2¢ to contribute? Right, again. Ms. Fossil. Instead of having something positive to say about how good it looks, she points out the one branch (the one that I had originally picked out and was subsequently told was way too big and high and would cost more) and says "I don't know... don't you think that one should come down, too? It's still hanging over the roof of my shed and I'm worried what will happen if it falls." Well, short of a 300lb squirrel deciding to use it as a trampoline or a stray bolt of lightening, it ain't coming down. It's healthy, it's at least 50ft above the roof and doesn't show any signs of being thin and/or brittle. I tell her "Not anytime soon. He just finished trimming what I can afford. That's it for today (I was tempted to add a "buy-bye now. buh -bye," but didn't)." The guy even says that he doesn't see any reason for concern. I then tell her (to deter any future phone calls or impromptu chats, on the way to my car) that "should there be any more branches fall in her yard, to just have her yard men toss them over into my yard", not unlike the little pile she had them deposit near my A/C unit. Fuckin' petty old dwarf! And she (get a load of this) looks to the tree trimmer guy and actually has the gall to say "Oh, I'm not worried about the branches that fall in the yard, just the roof of the shed." WTF? I have to control myself from leaping over the fence and giving her an enema with her own lawn angel. Sideways! She's been bitching about the fucking branches from day one. Geez. She then continues repeating her concerns all over again about the roof. I whisper to him "she needs some alone time, let's go get that check I owe you," while making "she's cuckoo" eyes in her direction, and we walk away, leaving her to commune with nature. Good riddance.