Metamuville is, of course, a haven for the lazy. And when Dirt Glazowski (himself no slouch in the slouch department) moved to Minnesota this year, he left me at the mercy of the Metamuville workforce.
I had to hire a stoner to mow my lawn.
It's going about as well as you would expect. Three weeks ago, I needed a mow. Two weeks ago, I finally called him. He's visited three times, called four times. It's too rainy. It's too sunny. His blade broke. His kid's sick. He's sick of kids. You name it, I've heard it. Meanwhile, deer are nesting in my lawn.
He finally showed up yesterday and mowed about a third of my lawn when there was a knock at my door. His mower's spark plug had broken clean in two. I agreed I'd never seen such a thing. And as he took his leave of me—promising to finish the job...sometime...indeterminate....maybe—he made a request that could only happen in Metamuville:
He asked to be paid for the part he'd mowed.