I Mean, What Gives?

So I'm finishing up blowing leaves, grass clippings, etc., after I mowed the lawn today, as I usually do, and, as I have been for two years. I have a small pile blown together at the end of the driveway to be swept later. I am in the road blowing some more toward it when I notice the 75-80 year-old man from 3-4 houses down the street.

Next, I notice him standing straight as a pin, dressed up like old man, knickers on, Mr. Rogers sweater, old cabbie hat and staring me down. I look away.

But he keeps on. So I cut the blower, and asked if I could help him. I could tell it wasn't going to be good, but as to why, I could only wait.

All of a sudden, as I'm standing in the gutter on my side of the street in front of my house, this old guy comes over and lays into me about grass clippings and if I was going to clean them up. Befuddled as to why the sight of me CLEANING THEM UP wasn't good enough for him, I interject, "That's what I'm doing right now, sir."

His tirade continued.

"I SAID I'D CLEAN THEM UP!!!" That still wasn't good enough, so I raised my voice to him to ensure he got my drift. "IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE I CAN HELP YOU WITH SIR?" He snarled, swirled around in a tizzy and rolled his eyes while pointing and circling his finger to his temple doing a "cuckoo" to me.

I've never met the dude. I'll be the first to respect my elders, but sometimes you just can't win. Lord willing, if I make 80, I hope to be seeking other activities outside of the pasttime of Grass Nazi.