or a year, I ignored the noise coming from my neighbor’s garage. Then I found something buried behind my bushes that turned annoyance into a very different problem.
Advertisement
“Sixty-three.”
My husband looked at the three plastic crates sitting in our garage, then at me.
“Sixty-three what?”
“Bottles.”
He stared. “Those all came out of our yard?”
I nodded. “Behind the bushes.”
Mark looked toward the back door.
“Why are you even hauling these in here? Come on. We’re going over there right now.”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
“So Dave just gets away with it?”
Advertisement
I wiped dirt off my hands and looked at the crates again.
“No.”
Mark folded his arms.
“I have a plan,” I said. “He’s going to remember this one for the rest of his life.”