The Neighbour Is Innocent
At least, it wasn’t she who reported my uncut lawn. It appears that this time circumstances just bit me in the toe. It happens that my area is having a real problem with mosquitos. Mosquitos are bad because they carry West Nile Virus, which we also have in this area. So the city has been requiring inspectors to make drive-by inspections of the area and to write up the smallest infractions of long grass or standing water, in an attempt to curb the growing mosquito problem. (Yes, that was an intentional play on words.)
Well, it just so happens that my area’s inspector came by last Friday, when I was still wrestling with the stolen lawnmower problem and the grass on the verge was 8 inches high. I had a really lovely conversation with him this morning, explained about the lawnmower problem, and told him he could come out any time to see the property now, as I have now got Dad’s old clunker mower to fight the grass with. The inspector said that he wouldn’t be out until mid-September, so to make sure I had it trimmed on the re-inspection date noted on the citation. (At least there’s no fine on this one!) I also explained about the neighbours, and that’s when he told me that it was he who “turned me in.” (Usually, they won’t tell, as it could expose them to a liability suit if they revealed a complainant’s identity and the person who got the citation assaulted the complainant for reporting them.)
The Inspector also asked if I had kept my mower locked up, and I explained that the thieves had wrenched the handles, lock and all, off of the building’s doors. He said, “That means it’s someone who knows you, then. And your habits. They did it while you were away on a habitual errand, right?” And I said, “Yeah, while I was at church on Wednesday.” He confirmed my own impression, that it’s time to replace the stupid engineered-steel, prefab, do-it-yourself utility shed that my husband erected five years ago. Replace it with a real building with deadbolts and all. I never really liked that metal building anyway — except when it rained. Rain on a metal roof is such a lovely sound!
The saddest thing this man said to me was that he appreciated the way I had handled the situation. Usually, he said, people calling fighting mad, screaming and swearing. I was the first nice person he’d talked to in years. That’s sad.