Someone edged my sidewalk, by which I mean the grass encroaching upon the concrete sidewalk has been trimmed back so the whole sidewalk is visible again. I just noticed it this morning, but it’s been raining all morning so I can’t think it was early today — I didn’t notice it yesterday. So now I guess the sidewalk conforms to some measure of neatness that I didn’t care about, myself.
I’m several varieties of put out over this. I don’t want people (1) doing yard work for me or (2) deciding what yard work should be done. I don’t care that I don’t (apparently) have to pay for it. What’s next, they’re going to plant marigolds in my flower beds for me? Where are they when my tree needs trimming and dead wood removed?
There’s probably nothing I can do because I don’t know who did it. Some neighbor, presumably. Plus it’s awkward confronting someone who thinks they did something good for me.
Gods, I hate the suburbs. I’ll say it again: Don’t worry about some politician in Washington with a program to pay for health care, but worry about your neighbors inflicting their laws and desires on you.