You Know You're In Fargo When ... / Sunday, September 18

Our neighbors are remodeling their basement. (HI, JEN! HI, NATHAN!)

There's some heavy-duty bidness to be done down there, so they've called in some pros.

The pros brought along a heavy-duty truck.

You know, for the heavy-duty bidness.

Since most pros don't work weekends (amen to that!) they left the truck parked in front of our house for the weekend.

I've driven past it a few times, never taking in too many details, until this morning. 

Do you see it? 

Yup!

STUFF!

Naturally, I grabbed my camera to investigate.

Just call me Nancy Drew.

No, really. Do. I like it.

(Don't call me "Matlock", though. Please don't. I do not like that.)

Upon further inspection, the stuff turned out to be a pop ('soda' for you folks on the left coast) bottle and a pair of sunglasses!

You KNOW some hot worker dude (what? I notice these things) got all excited at the prospect of Friday night and hightailed it out of there when the whistle blew, forgetting that he even owned sunglasses, much less ever had a taste for some refreshing Brisk Green Lantern-adorned tea.

The great thing, though, is that this is Fargo.

When Monday morning rolls around, not only will I be at my front window with binoculars, but his sunglasses will still be there, waiting for him.

Because we're Fargo.

It's how we roll.


* The City of Fargo does not endorse me, or anyone else that I know of, watching hot worker dudes through binoculars. In fact, they've asked me to stop on more than one occasion. In summary: respecting other folks' property is how we roll; not necessarily stalking hot worker dudes. The stalking thing might just be me.