Invasion of the Home Workers

One day last spring, an exterminator, lawn crew, gardener, and pool cleaners all parked in our driveway.

This was the day after another crew had cleaned the small pond in front of our house.

Additionally, a mason had come to repair a stone wall, while an independent horticulturist had planted our annuals for the season.

An arborist prepares
to rappel from our tree

This was either before or after the septic crew had stopped by to ensure the smooth operation of our system, and a “yard technician” came to clean up after our dogs. Oh, and an arborist showed up to treat our boxwoods against leaf invaders while another arborist rappelled from a tree to cut it down.

Most of these workers arrived without notice. This is something I've come to expect since we moved to our new home. We sought greater privacy from our neighbors, but those benefits are sometimes eclipsed by the frequent visits of various service professionals.

My office, where I write this blog, overlooks our driveway. As nocturnal as I am, I sometimes look out the window at 4 a.m. at the sight of headlights as vehicles pull in with Amazon deliveries. I feel invaded.

I don't remember it ever being this way at our old house in University Heights. We had a lawn guy who came every Thursday around 8 a.m. during the summer and reliably cleared the snow in the winter.

These days, we’re fortunate if our contract snowplow driver shows up. He's the one worker I wish would come here without announcing himself.

My second apartment
building in New York

When I lived in an apartment building in New York, almost all of the repairs were handled by the super (superintendent). From leaky faucets to wheezing radiators, I would just call the super, and eventually everything would be fixed. My second New York apartment had the convenience of a live-in super. I could even knock on his door for help.

Today, I feel as if I'm living with an army of workers. Before you suggest I could handle some of this work myself, I ask if you have ever met me. Do I seem like a do-it-yourselfer?

I realize that being surprised by unannounced workers is a first-world problem. 

Joe and I might consider simplifying our lives someday. Until then, I might as well get used to sharing my space with a multitude of workers.

Home sweet home in the evening, 
for once, with no trucks in the driveway

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