There's nothing quite like scaring the crap out of two grown men first thing in the morning.
They are doing a massive remodel to the house next door to us. Work started a month ago and will continue for another five months. The neighbors had to move out and the house is completely gutted at this point. The demolition was particularly noisy and as I write this, there is some heavy equipment running. They are pouring concrete and a tractor type thing doing God knows what. But, like anything else, you get used to the noise and it fades into the background. The contractors are nice guys. There are a slew of workers over there and the two boss types are both Irishmen. It's always a pleasure to listen to that accent and they are very friendly and accommodating to us.
I've mentioned before that I live in a row house. There is zero space between the properties. Before the work started I told the neighbors and the contractors that we would be fine with whatever they had to do, but they had to be mindful of wheelchair access. Our elevator is in the backyard and we take Maggie out through the garage. That area abuts part of the remodel. A week or so ago they took part of the fence down between the properties. They told me they might be in our yard, and I said that's fine, but remember the wheelchair issue, and they assured me they would. They did what they had to do and there was no problem.
Yesterday they poured the concrete for the new foundation. I traded pleasantries with the foreman as the truck got into place. I walked to the store, came back, waved at the guy again and went inside. They never mentioned that they were using part of my yard to brace the foundation. If they had asked I would have said yes, of course, but once again I would have reminded them about the wheelchair access. Steve was moving something at 11:00 PM last night (don't ask) and couldn't get through because the forms were blocking the path.
They arrived at 7:00AM. I called over there from the back deck, but they didn't hear me. I went out in front and the two boss types were standing in the driveway. The looked up and smiled. I just said, "Hey, I am happy to cooperate with you, but you have to move those forms so I can get the wheelchair out to the bus in the next 15 minutes. And If you are doing something in my yard ASK ME or at least tell me. I am going to say yes, but I do NOT like surprises."
Jaysus! They hopped to! That stuff was gone in a flash.
I took Maggie out to the bus with no problem and the big boss was falling all over himself apologizing. I said "it's ok, but you have to understand we have emergencies all the time and I cannot have something in the way that I don't know about. Even yesterday I had to leave early because of a problem with her feeding tube. And that doesn't really qualify as an emergency around here."
He looked sheepish and genuinely contrite. I don't expect there will be any more issues like that. Or at least no surprises. I put the fear of God into them. Or at least the fear of the crazy lady next door. It was only a matter of time until they discovered the real me. Steve just said, "ah, the poor lads" in his best Irish brogue.
Poor lads, indeed.
It's nice to know I still have it.