I couldn't pull in the driveway...........................................At one end the stable doors folded open and cracked the dried paint that found its way between the edges of the doors. At the end where I paused a stone mason set aside a set a saw horses and loose boards, and mouthed the words, " All done "....................................and as much as I wanted to pull in, I didn't feel I could. Or should.
I got out and stood in the road. I kicked a few rocks from the path of an approaching carriage, ....to the passer by who started to remove his hat, I turned away and walked along the side of the drive. To him, I think it appeared I may have been a laborer here. I felt a bit more comfortable with that. I saw the mason who had been at the drives end, and thought I would catch up with him and introduce myself. Midway up the edge of the drive, the dirt grew blacker and thicker. I can see now that the drive was just rinsed, and the spot I just waltzed in accounted for at least one of the buckets of water. I turned around and hustled away, embarrassed at the thought of being the guy that soiled the fresh drive with muddied boots. This in the presence of those who have put their days work into it. I jumped into the road where the dirt ended as far as I could, ....I'm such an idiot. I should have just walked on the driveway like everyone else was. My muddied prints land close enough to my truck that I don't think anyone will notice. I throw it gear and dump the clutch. I'm sweating, I can't breathe. I roll the window down and manage to pull away with no one paying any mind. I will drive by tomorrow. Or probably later tonight and see if there is anything going on. Or maybe I will clean up my boots and come right back. I don't see a common well anywhere, and there isn't one yard with grass I could even walk through to shake this mud. At least no one saw me, I will drive by tomorrow. Or maybe later tonight.
