It never would have dawned on me to blog about this except Kat gave some writing prompts
at her blog and it reminded me. I'll have to make sure
my niece reads it because it is one of her favorite stories.
The prompt was "tell about a time you hid from someone". Oh my.
A few years ago we went camping. When we came home, we pulled our
1, ONE (camping) trailer into our driveway very carefully
(no, the picture above is not our real car or trailer). We had to maneuver around several trays of flowers (maybe
4-5) waiting to be planted and the empty pots they would be planted in. We don't normally park it there. It normally goes on the other side of our property where it isn't so prominent. But often when we return home from camping we park it there to unload it rather than haul everything much further. We left the car attached so it wouldn't need so much work to put it back into it's normal spot. This makes it be about 50 feet long all together. Our driveway is large. It can handle it for a day or two.
The next morning I got up rather early, as I have been known to do, while everyone else was asleep. I planned on getting the flowers planted before they got up.
I stayed in my pajamas. It was a thin t-shirt and shorts duo. But not exactly modest. I did not brush my hair. I didn't want to wake anyone. I really enjoy my early morning time
alone. We live in the country. Our driveway is long and we are away from any neighborly eyes. Everyone else is asleep. No one to care.
I am about my business, my hands deep in soil, when I hear the garbage truck coming up the driveway. Initially I don't think it is any big deal. I just quickly duck into the camping trailer, waiting for him to dump our trash into his truck,
turn around and go back down. Then I will walk out and resume my digging in the dirt.
Only he can't turn around. The combination of our 50 foot long camping setup and the pots of flowers sitting out block him in. And it would be quite alot of work to back down our gravel driveway, a 500 foot sloped mess of bumps and ruts.
He gets out and starts walking toward the house, right by the open shades of the trailer. I duck and lay down on the floor. I'm pretty sure at that moment he knows I am there. I am certain he can hear my heart thumping. Or at least my loud, nervous breathing. And, usually, there are two of them. One to drive and one to dump.
I hear him knocking and knocking on our front door. And knocking. About 4 feet away from where I am hidden. In my immodest pjs with my unbrushed morning hair and dirty hands. And I don't know where garbage man number two is. Maybe about to peek through the open door through the screen and
see me. In my pajamas, with dirty hands
laying on the floor.
My husband is a deep sleeper. My kids are in the basement bedrooms and can't hear loud enough to wake them. I am NOT going to appear and answer his knock in my immodest pjs. Oh no. Not me. If you know me you know I am, well, I'd be embarrassed beyond any description if he saw me.
The garbage man continues to knock. I continue to lay on the dirty, just-camped-upon carpet, hoping he doesn't discover me. I am trapped. He is trapped. My heart is pounding wildly. He is knocking louder.
I am going over the scenarios in my mind. In each and every one, I am discovered.
1. He wakes up the household. We must move the trailer. I am in the trailer. Two person job.
2. No one comes to the door. He stays trapped. The police come. Or the fire department. And we get a fine.
3. I could possibly find a raincoat to put on as a robe and step out, sleepily stretching as if I'd slept in the trailer. But I couldn't wash my hands so he'd know.
I better just get out and answer before bad turns to worse. But then it would be obvious that I was hiding from him. Nope. I must stick with my hastily made plan. Right. To. The End.
I hear him walk by me again. Holding my breath. I hear him talking on his phone or radio. Then I hear the phone ringing in the house. No one is answering. It is ringing and stopping and ringing again.
Garbage truck exhaust is stinky. I can only hold my breath so long. I was shaking so hard at this point that I didn't know if I could walk. I was NOT going to be seen by the garbage man in the hoochy mama getup I was in. Yeah, it was a t-shirt and shorts. But the way I felt, I may as well have been in my birthday suit. I was praying. "Somehow, please just make him GO!"
I was on the verge of getting out several times but couldn't force myself.
Then, finally, God Bless America. I hear his truck moving. I don't know how, but it is sounding further away. Soem slamming of doors and bumping and skidding and yelling. Then all is quiet.
I am too afraid to move in case I was mistaken and they just turned the engine off, or they are stuck in our driveway. I laid there awhile until I heard nothing for long enough to be fairly certain he was gone. Then I finally mustered up the courage to move.
I ever so slowly rose up and look out the window to make sure. Relief. He is gone. He backed down the driveway. How, I do not know, but he was gone. I didn't care how.
My heart was still pounding. I was still afraid one of them stayed behind to catch me in my folly. So I gather everything I have in me and run into the house and shut the door.
Later on I listened to the answering machine message.
"Mr. and Mrs. ____! Our driver cannot get out of your driveway. There are flowers and trailers all over your property!
Please answer your door!".
Yes, that's us. 44 trailers and trays of flowers and pots everywhere you look. All over the entire 5 and a half acres.
I guess I was not the only one who over reacted that day.
Well, there ya have it. The time I hid.
This mall is located in an actual barn and is pretty quaint
This canister set is so cute. And in really good shape. I was tempted. 
Grain storage barn, moody against the rainy night sky
