and I thought I had problems...

Main Lady and I went out dancing Friday night (last night as I write this) where we met a couple we've known for a few years whom I'll call Landlord Larry and Made Mary.  Landlord Larry is a retired something or other and got into the landlord business some years back.  Having made his millions he's trying to get out, but no one is buying.  Being a landlord has been a real learning and growth experience for Larry, and he's become very adept with common household repairs, landlord tenant relations and monthly collections.  Once when I asked about the landlord business Larry informed me that if you don't collect the rent right away the average tenant will conclude that you're not interested in that money this month, and will go stock up on beer, wine and pot.


Landlord Larry's wife, Made Mary, is also retired from something or other.  She assists Larry in the landlord business, and being somewhat smaller than Larry she generally gets stuck (figuratively speaking) performing repairs that involve crawl spaces and narrow corridors.  I think it's worth noting that when Landlord Larry and Made Mary went to get their concealed carry permits there were 24 adults in the class with Mary being the only girl.  During firearms qualification Made Mary was the best shot in the class, and that by a wide margin.

Landlord Larry and Made Mary have a nice home out in the country, away from urban sprawl, suburbia and city lights.  They enjoy their privacy and have installed a nice hot tub in the side yard of their house.  The tub has a little screen around it as a wind break more than anything else, but since there aren't any neighbors, well... generally they wait until after sundown to go frolicking in the hot tub.

About three weeks ago Made Mary grew impatient for sunset and so decided it was time for a late afternoon hot tub session. Mary somehow convinced Landlord Larry to join her.  There the two of them were, frolicking around in the hot tub au naturel when a car pulled into the driveway.  Mary suffered an acute attack of shyness and tried to hop out of the tub and scamper inside.  About half way onto the deck Mary belatedly realized that the eponymous privacy screen was woefully inadequate for the purposes of concealment.  In fact, if Mary stood up the screen would effectively conceal her considerable charms from the knees down, leaving the rest of her satisfying the imagination of whomever was in the car.  Confronted by discovery, probable embarrassment and the thrice damned screen not being large enough to do what she wanted it to do, Mary tried her best to get out of the tub, stay behind the screen and make a short dash into the house to get dressed.  She didn't make it.

Mary promptly slipped on something, landed heavily on the deck and broke her wrist.  Mary forgot all about being naked in front of strangers and involuntarily focused her attention on the brand new indescribable pain in her wrist.  She rolled back and forth on her back, crying and holding her injured flipper.

Landlord Larry got into action, and like most men (I'm supposing most men) threw concerns about modesty and offending strangers in his own driveway into the wind where they'd make less mischief.  Larry got a robe and several towels for Mary and a pair of pants for himself.  He got Mary inside and sat her down on the couch, then pulled on his shoes to go deal with the disturbance in the driveway.  Landlord Larry was a little warm at this point, but he did realize that this brand new train wreck was not entirely the visitor's fault.  Larry tried to compose himself and arrange his visage into something that did not closely resemble a cross between a Sicilian collection agent and an angry gorilla.

Landlord Larry went outside and found a well dressed, smiling young man standing next to the car.

“What do you want?” Larry asked bluntly.

“Hi there!  I'm here to tell you all about our new Kirby!”

There was a silence while the enthusiastic fellow evaluated Larry's expression.

“Ah... I guess I'd better go, huh?”