Oh, Theft Most Base

Mrs. Guy and I have been having a lot of landscaping work done over the last couple of years. We got started with Coleman doing work for us in between his classes in Landscape Architecture here at UT in town. Then he just kept working for us after graduation when his big job offer fell through. Instead, he’s struck out on his own for now, with help from another of his classmates, until he goes back for a Masters Degree in a year or so.

It was because of Mrs. Guy’s work travel that we first got in contact with him. His father is one of the managers at the hotel where she stays when she’s in Nashville, and he’d mentioned his son once when he heard where she lived. We feel lucky to have him here working for us. He does great work, and he hasn’t balked at taking on more and more complex work scope. He’s a great guy.

Yesterday when I got home from work I noticed that they had taken my little utility trailer, which they often use, to dump all of the brush that had collected up during recent trimming work by them and Mrs. Guy, including the weeds I’d pulled over the last week and added to the pile. In place of the brush and weeds was a full load of mulch. “Ah,” I thought, “They must be going to plant the new trees in the back tomorrow.”

But today, when they came back, the mulch was gone. Along with my trailer.

I was leaving for lunch today with some friends when I got a call on my cell. It was Coleman. “Hey Big Guy, did you move your trailer last night, maybe take it somewhere else?”

“Um, no. I take it that it isn’t there now, huh?”

“No. I was really hoping you had it.” I could tell he felt bad about it since he was the one who’d used it last and left it on the side of the house, but that’s exactly where I always left it myself.

When did it happen? The only thing I can tell you is that it was between midnight and 10:00 am this morning. I didn’t even think to look over there for it this morning when I left. I wouldn’t think someone would come get it after I left the house at 5:30 am, since that’s about when the slow work-ward exodus begins in my neighborhood. I asked the neighbors I saw outside when I got home today if they’d seen anything, but not surprisingly no one had.

I guess I’m out a trailer, but I think Mrs. Guy was more upset that they waited until it had fresh mulch on it instead of getting it with the brush on it. All I can say is that at least they’re going to have a flat tire on the left side within a day or so (it has a slow leak in the left side tire, and Coleman had just pumped it up on Saturday). Small comfort, perhaps, but that little catharsis is the only silver lining I can think of.

Except that perhaps now I can finally argue for an old beater pickup truck without Mrs. Guy saying “You don’t need a truck – you have a trailer.” Well, not anymore I don’t. Anybody got a beater truck in good mechanical shape that they’d let go for $1,000 or less?
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Tonight's title is from the works of William Shakespeare, specifically from Act II, Scene II of Troilus and Cressida