The ten feet of snow in my yard
So when our first snowfall came around, I begged Mr. Plowman to please try to plow the snow somewhere other than in my yard. I had told him I was trying to beautify my yard, and he, very sweetly, remarked that he had noticed and would do what he could to plow the snow elsewhere. A whole bunch of snowfalls later, I now have a huge heap of snow in my yard. My wildflower bed is scraped to the gills. My "walkable" groundcover is nowhere to be found. The two new rootings of corkscrew willow are, well, screwed. It's a mess. When I last saw Mr. Plowman, he said, yeah, he knew I didn't want the heaps in my yard, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. There was simply no other place to plow it. (Not true, but that's beside the point.) He said they would have a dump truck of some sort come in to haul off all of the heaps. I've lived here three or four or five years and I've yet to see them haul off the heaps. I am quite sure Mr. Plowman was simply trying to appease me.
I'd like my yard back. I want to add early amendments and get some seeds that like to be stratified (basically frozen or held cold) put down. So I am wanting to call the office to ask if and when the dump trucks are coming to haul away the snow.
I'm not sure how to go about this. I want to be demanding, yet not too demanding. I want to be someone I am not, really. Someone who is firm in her request. Not someone who is bloody apologetic. (I still have the recent upstairs neighbor story to report. You'll see what I mean. I have this bizarre tendency to apologize for other people's crap. Take, for instance, the time I was in my rollerblades and struck by a van while in the crosswalk, even after he gave me a nod to go (and I had the right-of-way, anyway, because he was at a red light! But, no, as my shirt and body were pinched under his front tire, I apologized to him for his nearly killing me. Oh, gracious, I'm getting way off topic here.) But here's the deal: The woman who answers the "maintenance" phone line for this place is, I'm sorry, a b-i-t-c-h. So what am I to do? I already know the answer. I will do nothing but wait for June or July, when the ten feet of snow has finally melted. *sigh*
I hope that in my next life (1) I am not a squirrel and (2) I have a spine.
I'd like my yard back. I want to add early amendments and get some seeds that like to be stratified (basically frozen or held cold) put down. So I am wanting to call the office to ask if and when the dump trucks are coming to haul away the snow.
I'm not sure how to go about this. I want to be demanding, yet not too demanding. I want to be someone I am not, really. Someone who is firm in her request. Not someone who is bloody apologetic. (I still have the recent upstairs neighbor story to report. You'll see what I mean. I have this bizarre tendency to apologize for other people's crap. Take, for instance, the time I was in my rollerblades and struck by a van while in the crosswalk, even after he gave me a nod to go (and I had the right-of-way, anyway, because he was at a red light! But, no, as my shirt and body were pinched under his front tire, I apologized to him for his nearly killing me. Oh, gracious, I'm getting way off topic here.) But here's the deal: The woman who answers the "maintenance" phone line for this place is, I'm sorry, a b-i-t-c-h. So what am I to do? I already know the answer. I will do nothing but wait for June or July, when the ten feet of snow has finally melted. *sigh*
I hope that in my next life (1) I am not a squirrel and (2) I have a spine.