After some of the comments on the last entry, I feel I should elaborate on the story a bit.
The garage sale was coming to a close. The people I was having the sale with and I were closing everything down and packing up the unsold stuff to donate. We were tired and hot and a little cranky.
A guy on a motorcycle pulled up as we were just about done. He sat there, helmet on, in front of my house for a few moments.
At first, I thought he was trying to figure out if we were done with the sale or not. But he just sat there, staring. I started to get creeped out, and wondered if I was going to have to pull out the bitch stick when he took off his helmet and started up the driveway.
"Hi there. I used to live here," he said as he extended a hand.
Giddy, I asked him what his name was. When he said "Dave", I immediately let out a laugh, "I found your little note, Mr. Dave Brown."
He looked shocked for a split second, but then said he didn't remember what it said.
I told him, and he laughed but it was a weird, nervous laugh (for the record, he is still married to the same woman he was married to when he put up those cabinets).
I think it was then that he realized that we had taken down some of his handy work.
"So, how ya' likin' the intercom system?"
"Uh...we took it out. It didn't work."
"Oh. What about the security system?"
At this point, I thought he might cry. I offered that the gazebo thing he built in the backyard was still intact and was one of the main reasons we fell in love with the house. This seemed to satisfy him, and he asked to see it.
With some trepidation, I took him into the backyard. My friends were still there at this point and I can scream pretty loud, so I wasn't too worried.
I took him through the garage because I really didn't want him blubbering all over the guts of his former kitchen.
He stood on the back deck for a moment, not speaking. I didn't like it, so I started blathering on about how much we love hanging out back here, how nice it is, blah blah blah.
He just got all wistful about the tree swing. I started to feel bad for the guy, but then he started in on the intercom system again.
I changed the subject by telling him he needed to go into our shop and talk to my husband about the sprinkler system we apparently have. I told him the people that we bought the house from didn't know how to use it either. This frustrated Dave.
He said something else about something, and I again redirected the conversation to his talking to my husband at his work.
"Oh, when you walk in," I told Dave as I was pushing him back into the garage, "Walk in and say 'Yep, I remember when gas was a a buck O nine a gallon! Those were the days!' It would be HILARIOUS!"
Sadly, I think I was alone on that one.
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