An Apology and a Laugh

We woke up to our house having been toilet papered. Again. This is probably the 3rd time since the ill-fated, amateur event I shared with you. These times the perps have been more professional (at least in the front trees), if not prolific.

Once our van, Flo--which Taylor drives--was covered in mustard or fry sauce or something. That wasn't so cool. He loved that.

He loves the TP, too. (A bit of a stick-in-the-mud, that one.)

I must admit that when I woke up and opened the drapes to this glorious morning, my first two thoughts were:

1. Seriously? Not AGAIN!

2. What's the good of having a dog if she won't even tell us when something like this is happening?

And so, to all of you boys--and especially to their parents--circa 1985-1988, please accept my sincere apologies.

• I hope you understand, in spite of your frustration, that it was done in the spirit of love.
• I'm sorry you had to clean up your yard. And the neighbors' yards. And the street. At all times of the year.
• I'm sorry that you had flags of tp in the tops of your trees for weeks at a time.

On the other hand, how can you not laugh at this?

*sigh* If only we'd had colorful window paint when I was a teen.

Rude Awakening

At 1:00 this morning, Bella woke up and started barking. I looked out our window to see a whole bunch of girls toilet papering our yard. For those who knew me in high school, this is probably a prime example of "turnabout is fair play."

Spencer and I looked out the window for a moment, and I said, "Keep watching. This is going to be funny." I walked to the front door and switched on the light. When I came back to the bedroom, he was giggling. He said, "Did you see them scatter? There were two carloads of them!"

They came back later and honked. But they didn't finish the job. There are still rolls of TP on the driveway.

All I have to say is this: AMATEURS! They should talk to a real pro.