The trip had caught up with me, so, I brought my suitcases in, unpacked, and got ready for bed. Crawling onto the firm mattress and resting my head on the feathered pillows, I thought about all the childhood memories I had and maybe extending my one week vacation to two, so I could fix up this place a little bit. That is, until I fell asleep, which didn’t take long.
A rude, rat a tat tat from a hammer, the sound of a sander running, and the high pitched drill woke me from a sound sleep. Changing into shorts and a T-shirt, I sleepily walked to the front door and threw it open. To my surprise, the screen door was now hanging correctly, with new screws holding the hinges on the door frame. It had been sanded down, re-stained, and a new screen had been mounted to the wood frame.
The can of stain was still there, saw dust was still on the porch, sand paper, screwdrivers, a drill, and a hammer could be seen leaning against the can of stain. I scratched my head, as I stepped out on the porch. Scanning up and down the road and around the yard, nobody could be found. Just as I was giving up, I heard some whistling. Around one of the well-manicured bushes next door, with a broom and dust pan in his hand, came Mr. Anderson.