Frequently when I’m out walking I pass the truck for a lawn service that’s used by a number of our neighbors. It brands its work as “realistic” which always strikes me as kind of odd, because of all the words I could think of to describe professional yard care, “realistic” is not one of them.
My first reaction is to wonder just what kind of crazy-ass unrealistic services they were asked to provide that caused them to have to specify that this is the only kind of work they offer. Maybe something like, “No, ma’am, I’m sorry, but we cannot turn your yard into a fully functioning replica of The Magic Kingdom as expressed solely through the Art Of Bonsai” ?
Then I feel kind of sad, because it makes me imagine a young, eager lawn guy or gal being told to lay down their lofty dreams of yard care glory (Bonsai? Magic Kingdom? Why not?!), and instead just settle for what is “realistic”.
But mostly, it makes me want to call them up and ask really obnoxious questions. Such as,
“How much do you charge for “Tragically Disenchanted” lawn service?”
Or, “Can you recommend anyone who provides ‘Utterly Unfeasible’ care? What about ‘Fleetingly Quixotic’?”
Or, “Would you give me any kind of discount if I combined ‘Existentially Angsty’ with ‘Vaguely Fraught’?”
But luckily for everyone involved, my deep and abiding phobia of Talking To People On The Phone means they are safe from my trying to poke them with giant snark sticks.
It’s always nice when I can use my illness to help others.
Um, ok, is this another one of fibro’s little gifts? My phone phobia is beyond pathological and I just assumed it was one of those random quirks that made me the snowflake that I am. I would totally love to move this to the fibro category because it is seriously embarrassing (I can hardly even listen to VM’s, as POTUS likes to say, “SAD!”).