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Sunday, May 1, 2016

Good thing I never became a detective

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

The other morning I woke up about 6 a.m. to go to the bathroom and looked out my front window and what was this? Two fellows were right out in front of my patio looking at my Ironquill sign, the porch, the apartment upstairs, back to my patio and then walked a ways down the sidewalk then back to looking at my porch.

When I was young(er) in my youth, eons ago, I thought it would be fun to be a detective, so now it looked like maybe a robbery was about to take place.

Then, low and behold, they started up the stairs to the upstairs apartment, and oh my gosh, they started carrying down some absolutely beautiful dining room chairs, and started walking out to the garage. What was I to do? Should I call the police? Should I start screaming or what? (Women do that). Thank heavens I am old and don't move too fast or I would have been on the phone. What a detective I would have made. (Really.)

But then a strange thing happened; the fellow who lives upstairs came down the stairs and went out to talk to the two guys.

That's weird.

The two fellows walked over to their van which I hadn't noticed (great detective that I am) and started taking out all sorts of stuff -- a big hunk of plastic and proceeded to put it down and set all of the chairs on it. Then they walked back to the van and brought out all sorts of things, cans, bottles, rags that sort of thing.

Then I began to see the light (great detective that I am). The couple who had just moved in recently, maybe their chairs were scratched and damaged in the move. Yep, that was it. One guy started working on the chairs, but the other fellow must have been the boss, cause he proceeded to sit down on one of the chairs and light up a cigarette and watch the other guy work. The one guy did all of the work and the other guy (the boss) must have been the inspector, 'cause he would take each chair and look it over very carefully and point out something to the other guy. This went on for about three hours, (nothing like being a nosey neighbor). The "inspector" must have finally given the "go-ahead." They packed up their stuff, put it back in the van and then went upstairs and shortly came down and took off.

I guess you could say my imagination ran away with me. Did I say I was a good detective? Good thing I never went to school to become a detective; I would have been the laughingstock of the class.

Marilyn Miller
The Old Grey Mare