So today while Todd was sitting out on the stoop the squatter appeared. You know--the squatter. Tall, built like an ex-marine, pretty face, varied personalities, and a possible switch-hitter. The one who ran up a 15K electric bill over the 2 or 3 years that she lived there illegally.
She approached the property, crossed the fence line and placed her palm in the hand-print she had left long ago in the cement below the front steps.
Then she asked if there was any mail for her and proceeded to rifle through the box.
Note to self: Get a gate.
And a mail-slot in the front door.