Let's try that again ...

(I did NOT hit send, but my post got away from me before I was ready.)

I want a medal. I think I deserve it. I'll tell you what happened just now, and see if you agree.

My dog was summoning me to come out of the house by barking his head off from the porch. I went to see what's up, and found two guys making their way to the back door (away from the dog). I leaned out over the edge of the porch and asked them if they were looking for someone?

Seems they own the cabin down the road a bit and are looking for some sucker to brushhog their property for them a couple times a year. They heard from a neighbor that we have such a gizmo here on our farm. Yep. That's right. We do. One guy started a lengthy speech about who he is, why he and his partner need someone else to do the dirty work for him, etc., etc. Here's where patience comes into the picture.

As he blabbered on and on, I was memorizing his looks, as I've never actually seen him before even though they've owned their property almost as long as I've lived here. I was also wondering how he had nerve enough to come to ask us to do what he wanted done. And I exercised great patience in NOT saying what I was thinking. Oh, no ... it's not that I'm a cranky old hag who bites strangers' heads off just because they come asking a favor. Here's the story:

These people come a few times a year for their party weekends during which they shoot guns all day, until it's too dark to see their target. The noise! If I were to go into their neighborhood and create a similar racket, they'd have the State Police on my butt in a heartbeat. But even THAT's not it. When they're not firing off their rifles, they're zooming up and down the road on their four-wheelers. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why people buy a place in the quiet country just so they can act like complete fools and do all they can to disturb the peace of the countryside. But no ... THAT's not it, either. The thing is, these people have kids that are the rudest brats I've ever encountered.

A number of years ago, they had a boy of about eight years of age ripping up and down on a four-wheeler. He was obviously not big enough to handle the machine safely, and I'm certain it's not legal to operate that thing on a public road without a license. He actually rode up on my front lawn and flipped the thing. I was outside, and went over and asked him if he was okay. His response? F*#k You, Lady!

After I picked myself up from ground, I told him to take his 4-wheeler, get out of here, and don't let me catch him on my yard with that thing again or he'd be one sorry little cursing son-of-a-gun.

Another time, these idiot kids rode their 4-wheelers back and forth past our farm and decided to shoot out the windshield of my son's truck parked in front of the barn. That time, I called the police and they got their little fannies in deep doo-doo. It surprised the daylights out of them that we actually HAVE police, I guess. It ruined their party atmosphere. They left early that weekend and didn't come back for a long time. (No, I didn't miss them!)

Now, I've got to say, the guy who came today seemed pleasant and was very polite. I wanted sooooo badly to ask him if he was the one with the out-of-control kids. Or just who in the world WERE those little jerks? But patience prevailed, I'll have you to know. I took his name and number, and politely told him I'd have my husband call a friend of his who would probably do the job for him. Without ripping him "a new one."

Whaddya think? A medal for patience, or a crown for Stupidest Neighbor on the Road?