The Gardner Atones or I Told You So, I Told You So

Trust me, interacting with my gardner, anything to do with him for that matter, is last on my bucket list. I was born with an aversion to these stocky leather-hides. And so did my father, who hated gardeners more than the pooping pigeons on our roof. In fact my big dream in life is to have enough money to hire someone just to manage my gardner and to ensure that I never have to see him. So you get my point, I don't want to spend any time or energy dealing with them. Okay, deep breath, the Gardner Leaves Affair has another chapter and I'm not quite sure how to respond. He quits on me Wednesday rather than clean the leaves from the street and tries to play the tough guy blowing me off. I restrain myself, because...well, Jewish guys who host weekly Torah classes do not generally fare well going toe-to-toe with cement-heads. And I am no exception. Relieved that I am finally rid of the ruddy-faced rat, I start thinking about a replacement and even consider shoveling my own snow this winter, (which I know will never go beyond the consideration stage). Saturday evening rolls in and I check my messages and see that Mr. Leaves called me during the day and left a voice mail. He apologizes for losing his cool and I immediately start jumping up and down like a twelve year old girl chanting, I told you so! I told you so! ...Yeah right- like you've never done that...Anyhow, little cement-head wants his job back, but I'm not so sure...Okay now I'm sure, will keep him, just to avoid having to avoid him on Wednesdays when he services my neighbors on the street. You gotta choose your battles in life, so this time i'll take a pass on butting heads with butt-heads.