Tree Men

Nearly every other day my doorbell rings, and I find some huge burly looking man on the front steps. I don't open the door to strangers, and I tell them so. That may be rude, but I don't care. There's no way I am going to open my door to some huge man that could possibly harm myself or my children. So, the men just say that's okay and tell me they will leave their card on my door. And what card might that be? The card of a tree trimming company, of course. They probably drive around neighborhoods looking for business. When they spot the enormous scraggly red oak in our front yard that has gone without a good trim for at least 5 years now, with its dead limbs galore, their eyes must turn into dollar signs as a chorus of "cha-chings" go off in their minds. I am not exaggerating when I say this happens almost every other day. Frankly, I am getting a little tired of it. And my feelings are starting to get a little hurt since our tree is apparently such an eyesore that tree men all over the metroplex are drawn to our front door. I know it needs to be done. We're going to get it done one day, probably this winter. And I plan on calling a tree trimming service that has not come to my door and bugged me while my children are napping.