Here's what your Saturday morning looks like when your yard has mature trees and your kids have immature friends.
I should have gotten up at 2 a.m. and looked out the window instead of merely mumbling at the dogs to "quit barking at the neighbor's damn cat."
Hmmm. A mystery. Whomever did this had a terrific throwing arm, I discovered when I had to blast the garden hose thirty feet high to coax the paper streamers into dropping down like dead snakes. So that would rule out a good portion of Kate's theater and choir pals.
The culprit(s) spared no expense, using at least eight double rolls of Ultra Premium Charmin. I marvelled at its cushy softness and am considering switching brands. Darn upscale kids.
But who? Most of Kate's friends have access to cars but few have the gumption to break curfew.
Secretly, I'm a little pleased to know that high school kids haven't changed much in thirty years, and that Kate is enough of a blip on the social radar to warrant this bit of deliquent attention. The TP actually looked kind of festive swaying in the morning breeze. There are still vestiges of unreachable white fluff lingering, which should come down with the next good rain.
In our part of the Lone Star state, that should be by about October.
Maybe by then the mystery will be solved.