Here I am, a happy curmudgeon, napping on a quiet fall afternoon, as is my afternoon wont, and suddenly a solid wall of noise erupts.
I speak, as you can imagine, of some lawn service nearby. They start up three or four loud machines - mowers, blowers, trimmers and such.
You can imagine, I am not a happy camper. These bozos are blowing my neighbor's leaves into the air, apparently assuming that they are being blown into the ether, never to be seen again.
They are not. They are being blown into my yard. Many onto me as I recline in my hammock. Of course, they will shortly be blown back again when my guys show up.
The main difference is I give my guys very specific aiming directions.
You don't mess with a curmudgeon.
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