The Gardner Rings Twice

So I still haven't returned the gardner's call from Saturday, which probably qualifies me for a senior exec position in Dilbertville. Only I'm not dicking him around, still deciding whether to take cement-head back, hire new lead-head or give a shot at shoveling myself like the cheapos next door. But that's not all, I still cannot bear to talk to thorn-in-my-side, especially after learning that another neighbor had a similar experience with him and suspects that he is a drinker, stoner or both. If only I could convince my wife to move to a condo. Never been an enthusiastic homeowner, not the Canadian Tire of guy here. Don't like hockey and hate the Habs. If it wasn't for the fact that I love Tim Hortons and the bland food they serve, and think that Stephen Harper is the greatest prime minister since the founding of the dominion, then you might even question my patriotism. Forgive the tangential rambling, back to the gardner. He rings my doorbell today, but fortunately I was on a conference call and did not answer. Meanwhile he cleans the leaves off my lawn and even bags them. Think I'll make the bugger sweat a bit and let him come a knockin'.