Quick Fix

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Despite his wife's insistence, Theo elected not to call the police. Sure, this was practically becoming an epidemic in the neighborhood, but really, there was nothing much could be done now; and anyway, whoever the father of the perpetrator was, it was his job to take care of the disciplinary end of things. Perhaps aided by the use of a good strong belt.

All Theo did was head over to the hardware store the next day and pick up a new mailbox. He knew he ought to do what several of his neighbors had done: hire Steve Edwards or one of the Gantner boys or someone with bricklaying experience to build a good sturdy mailbox housing, something that would stand up to whatever little thug had been going around lately with a baseball bat. Thing was, that felt like giving in. This was supposed to be a nice town, full of decent people. Having to worry about barring and bricking everything up was supposed to be for city folk.

When he returned home, his wife came out to meet him by the smashed remains of the old mailbox. She watched in critical silence as he took the new box and slid it carefully inside.

"And what the neighbors will think of us for having such a tacky thing on our lawn, I certainly don't know," she sniffed, before stalking back up the driveway and into the house.

Daylight

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Chelsea looked again at the bill in her hands, but the number at the bottom remained distressingly large. "That much, huh?" she said unhappily, setting it down again on the counter.

"Fraid so," the mechanic replied. He was a huge, burly man, the type that usually made her want to clutch her purse tighter and walk a little faster, but the almost tiny set of wireframe glasses on his face somehow robbed him of menace. His eyes had also not once dipped below her collar when they spoke, which put him light-years ahead of her usual mechanic.

"Is there anything on here that's... I don't know, non-vital?" Chelsea glanced at the itemized estimate again. "With my husband still overseas, and the kids to take care of, and the house needing work..." She forced herself to stop. No sense forcing a complete stranger to listen to all her troubles; he probably had enough of his own, and though he looked sympathetic, he was still shaking his head.

"Your transmission is more or less completely shot, and it looks like the radiator is about to go too. Which is not to mention a half-dozen other, smaller problems, that are gonna turn into big problems if you don't nip 'em in the bud now." He wiped his hands on a rag and shrugged. "I can ignore those things if you really want, but somewhere down the line it's going to cost you even more."

"Wait, wait." Chelsea pointed out a line to him. "'Body work'? Can't we leave that off?"

The mechanic chuckled a little. "You could, I suppose, but all that line actually means is that I'll plug up the holes in the floor of your car."

She handed the bill back to him and nodded firmly. "Forget the holes. I'll just buy thicker floormats."

Garage (Or The Lack Thereof)

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Charlie had taken the day off to do some work around the house, and was now on hour two of trying to get the door between the living room and the guest bathroom to hang straight. When his wife came home he was thankful for the interruption. "Hey, welcome back, sweetie," he called, dusting off his hands. "Did you get the tarp over the car okay?"

"Yeah, it's on there," Deborah answered, setting her keys and purse down on the couch. "If it gets much windier we might have to weigh it down with something, but the weatherman didn't say there would be too much wind tonight. Just lots of rain."

He nodded, still eyeing the door. "I'll fix that hole in the carport tomorrow after work, if I get a chance."

"Mmm. Don't worry about it too much; you can't fix it while it's raining anyway." She kicked off her shoes, then walked over to join him. "Door's still giving you trouble?"

"It's this damned crooked doorway," he answered. "It looks straight, but there isn't actually one right angle in the whole thing. I think whoever added the bathroom onto the house must have been stoned stupid."

Deborah chuckled. "We could always hang a bead curtain up instead of a door. Could even light the bathroom with a lava lamp."

"Classy." Charlie sighed. "I'm thinking of leaving this until I've fixed everything else first. The leaky faucet in the kitchen, and the wasps' nests by the porch, and the broken railing on the stairs, and the agitator in the washing machine..."

"And the hole in the carport."

"And the hole in the carport, yeah."

She put a hand on his arm. "Hey, don't get so down. This kind of thing just comes with home ownership, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Just seems so impossible to keep up with sometimes, is all." He smiled at her. "So, you can see how my day's been. How was yours?"