I have a neighbor who has pink shutters.
Not the fuschia pink, or red-pink, or even hot pink. My neighbor’s shutters are bubble-gum pink.
They didn’t even come with the house – so they don’t have that excuse to fall back on. No – this man chose the color and hung them himself. Bubble-gum pink. It’s not like they were a horrible color beforehand. (more horrible for a house than bubble-gum pink is something I’m having a hard time fathoming) They were black. Which didn’t look half bad because he’s got white siding and brick. No, not bad at all. But he wanted (?) bubble-gum pink.
I won’t lie to you; they stress me out a little bit – these ill-colored shutters.
But I didn’t intend for this post to be about the shutters. I just thought that I would use them as an example of this neighbor’s poor choice-making.
Two-ish weeks ago this neighbor discovered that there was an issue with his sewer pipe.
Now, to me, sewer=poop=someone else’s job. The world needs ditch-diggers too, ya know?
Instead pink-shutters-man decides that he wants to solve the problem of the sewer pipe by himself. So, he starts digging. And digging. And digging. A week goes by and all he’s got to show for his digging are mounds of dirt in his yard. No pipe. Because, according to my dad, your sewer pipe is usually about 2 feet below your basement, and that’s only if you start right at your house. It sometimes goes even deeper the further away you get from your house.
He started at the sidewalk, furthest from the house.
Another three days, and the loss of his pretty Dogwood later, (he had to dig that up for some reason too) and he decided that it was time to hire a professional.
These professionals seem to be making a bigger mess than he did, as all of the dirt is making its way into the street now. They’re out there early in the morning and well into the evening looking for this thing – it’s all I can do to get some sleep with the constant whir of the tractor.
I’m not sure why I’m telling you this…I think I just needed to vent about the man with the pink shutters. This is sort of like his last straw, and I’m not sure what I’ll do.