A month ago, I had to yell at the Handyman.
Yes--yell at him.
He was trimming branches and fell off a ladder in our front yard.
He didn't tell me, until I noticed him wincing while he was doing other stuff and then he fessed up.
He wouldn't go to the doctor to get checked out, said he was fine and then, not 30 minutes later-- I saw him out in the back doing this!!!
(he had a chain saw in his hand)
He is on a rocky hill!
With a chainsaw, without a spotter.
Why wouldn't I have yelled at him?
Perhaps 'yell' is a strong word.
I just talked loudly in a very concerned voice.
Our yard goes like this:
(our grandson Eli standing in a downpour--on a dare from me)
It's a steeper incline than it looks.
He had no business on a ladder on the rocks.
So, on Sunday, he was so happy to have some 'chainsaw' time in his own backyard!
Sans the ladder.
He cut some limbs off a tree.
He looks like a man on a mission!
He's a trimmer... a hacker.... a cutter.
It always starts out in the spring, baron and so desert looking, that I can't bear to have him trim anything and then by late summer even I cant' stand it and I'm begging him to trim things!
He looks so happy with himself.