Monday, September 29, 2008

The Home-Improvement Chronicles: The Tree Trimming


not a euphemism: i got my tree trimmed the other week. as you can see, it was overgrown and long overdue for a trimming. the neighbor directly north of me complained that it obstructed his view and offered to pay to have the whole thing chopped down, but given that it’s the only mature tree on the property, shading the house from the sun with its strategic westward location, i declined his kind offer and opted to give the lovely Chinese Elm just a little haircut.


low hangers: some of the tree’s spider branches hung so low and so far into the street that SUVs driving down the road routinely got their roofs scratched up.


Mike fixed all that: he’s the tree trimmer extraordinaire recommended by all my neighbors, who sang his praises with glee. i will now add to their chorus and recommend super Mike for all your tree-trimming needs. but don’t bother him with your messy trees in the SFV or Westside as Mike only works the Glendora to Pasadena loop. call him at 626.353.3186.


i hope they’re insured: Mike brought his lovely crew who surprised me with their bladder control by never once asking to use the bathroom inside the house.


a little off the top: the guys spent all day hanging off the tree like wild monkeys, but thankfully never threw poop at me like wild monkeys.


better than pine sol: the best part of the trimming had to be the delicious smell it produced as the branches and leaves were shredded. it smelled like a thousand christmas trees, a lovely alternative to the intense skunk from hell smell that usually permeates the neighborhood.


and then they got sucked into the shredder: it’s a shame, too, because they seemed like really nice guys.


grass, please: i almost asked Mike and crew to distribute some of the shredded leaves all over the front yard to cover up the sad dirt pile that’s currently there.


Pinko on the case: she spent the day supervising from the deck and barking like a rabid animal whenever a branch fell to the ground.


thinning out: i spent the day holding my breath and expecting some kind of disaster, like a branch crashing through the roof or a guy falling out of the tree with chainsaw still ablaze, dismembering his own limbs.


the after shot: the only real disaster was how hot the house became in the afternoon without the overgrown tree to shade it from the setting sun.

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