Rachel has had several informal gatherings in our two-car garage this summer, which we have converted into our poor man's patio by adding area rugs, a table, chairs, couch and many, many Christmas lights. Tonight is one of those gatherings and Mike and I took a quick walk around the block trying to catch the "supermoon." No luck. On the way back up our driveway, we were greeting by a screaming young man wielding a large two-by-four and running straight toward us. As soon as he recognized us, he said, "Oh my gosh! I'm sorry! I thought you were Zara and Zoe."
Oh. That makes it all better. I'm sure Mrs. neighbor was just waiting for a reason to call 911. No need. He must just be the welcoming committee.
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