Driveway Cleaning Quotes

The garage door slid open as we pulled into the driveway, registering the sensors Shaun and I wear around our neck. In case of viral amplification, the garage becomes the zombie equivalent of a roach motel: Our sensors get us in, but only a clean blood test and a successful voice check gets us out. If we ever fail those tests, we’ll be incinerated by the house defense system before we can do any further damage.

I could sit in restaurants or parking lots with my parents forever, because I knew as soon as we pulled into our driveway, my family would disband and we’d all go back into hiding.

The students tend to stick close to campus. There is nothing for them to do in Blacksmith proper, no natural haunt or attraction. They have their own food, movies, music, theater, sports, conversation and sex. This is a town of dry cleaning shops and opticians. Photos of looming Victorian homes decorate the windows of real estate firms. These pictures have not changed in years. The homes are sold or gone or stand in other towns in other states. This is a town of tag sales and yard sales, the failed possessions arrayed in driveways and tended by kids.

Easy now. Good, clean thoughts. Calming exercises, go. “Tear” and “tier” are pronounced the same but “tear” and “tear” are not. “Fat chance” and “slim chance” mean the same thing. I dig into my email. Not the In-Box or the Sent but the Drafts folder. “Arkansas” and “Kansas” are pronounced differently. We drive on a parkway but park in a driveway. If a vegetarian eats vegetables, is a humanitarian a cannibal?

At the side of the house he scraped scales of fungus off the shingles. His basement smelled of mildew, his eyes stinging when he put in the laundry. The soil of his vegetable garden was too wet to till, the roots of the seedlings he’d planted washing away. The rhododendrons shed their purple petals too soon, the peonies barely opening before the stalks bent over, the blossoms smashed across the drenched ground. It was carnal, the smell of so much moisture. The smell of the earth’s decay. At night the rain would wake him. He heard it pelting the windows, washing the pitch of the driveway clean. He wondered if it was a sign of something. Of another juncture in his life. He remembered rain falling the first night he spent with Holly, in her cottage. Heavy rain the evening Bela was born. He began expecting it to leak through the bricks around the fireplace, to drip through the ceiling, to seep in below the doors. He thought of the monsoon coming every year in Tollygunge. The two ponds flooding, the embankment between them turning invisible.

A clean dusting of white covered the yard and the driveway. It was a wet snow, with big fat flakes that fell heavily against each other. It was just cold enough to keep it building for a while, but I knew once the sun came up over the trees, the snow was done for.

I always wondered, though, what the fathers felt as they drove up the street they used to drive down every night, and whether they really saw their former houses, whether they noticed how things got frayed and flaky around the edges now that they were gone. I wondered it again as I pulled up to the house I’d grown up in. It was, I noticed, looking even more Joad-like than usual. Neither my mother nor the dread life partner, Tanya, was much into yard work, and so the lawn was littered with drifts of dead brown leaves. The gravel on the driveway was as thin as an old man’s hair combed across an age-spotted scalp, and as I parked I could make out the faint glitter of old metal from behind the little toolshed. We used to park our bikes in there. Tanya had “cleaned” it by dragging all the old bikes, from tricycles to discarded ten-speeds, out behind the shed, and leaving them there to rust. “Think of it as found art,” my mother had urged us when Josh complained that the bike pile made us look like trailer trash. I wonder if my father ever drove by, if he knew about my mother and her new situation, if he thought about us at all, or whether he was content to have his three children out there in the world, all grown up, and strangers.

Now, by all accounts, you have the perfect life: you have the high-earning husband, the rosy-cheeked children, and the Buick in the driveway. But something isn’t right. Household tasks don’t seem to hold your attention; you snarl at your children instead of blanketing them with smiles. You fret about how little you resemble those glossy women in the magazines, the ones who clean counters and bake cakes and radiate delight. (Looking at those ads, a housewife and freelance writer named Betty Friedan “thought there was something wrong with me because I didn’t have an orgasm waxing the kitchen floor.”) Everything and everyone confirm that it’s just as you suspected: the problem is you. You’re oversexed, you’re undersexed, you’re overeducated, you’re unintelligent. You need to have your head shrunk; you need to take more sleeping pills. You ought to become a better cook—all those fancy new kitchen appliances!—and in the meantime be content and grateful with what you have. The cultural pressure of the 1950s was so intense that some women, in order to survive, killed off the parts of themselves that couldn’t conform.

In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok you would never see him doing such a thing, tossing the dry snow over the mountain of his bare, round shoulder, his hair tied in a knot, a model of concentration. Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word for what he does, or does not do. Even the season is wrong for him. In all his manifestations, is it not warm and slightly humid? Is this not implied by his serene expression, that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe? But here we are, working our way down the driveway. one shovelful at a time. We toss the light powder into the clean air. We feel the cold most on our faces. And with every heave we disappear and become lost to each other in these sudden clouds of our own making, these fountain-bursts of snow. This is so much better than a sermon in church, I say out loud, bud Buddha keeps on shoveling. This is the true religion, the religion of snow, and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky, I say, but he is too busy to hear me He has thrown himself into shoveling snow as if it were the purpose of existence, as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway you could back the car down easily and drive off into the vanities of the world with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio. All morning long we work side by side, me with my commentary and he is inside the generous pocket of his silence, until the house is nearly noon and the snow is piled high all around us; then, I hear him speak. After this, he asks, can we go inside and play cards? Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk and bring cups of hot chlorate to the table while you shuffle the deck, and our boots stand dripping by the door. Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes and leaning for a moment on his shovel before he drives the fun blade again deep into the glittering white snow.

Maybe she’ll give us a tip,” Jackson said. “Twelve dollars isn’t much for the ton of snow we shoveled.” “I don’t know,” Willie said doubtfully. “She had a big fight with my mom for cutting some roses off a bush that was growing over the fence into our yard. Mom says Mrs. Lima’s stingy.” How stingy they found out when Mrs. Lima returned and handed them each a five-dollar bill. “It was ten for the driveway and two for the walk, that’s twelve,” Jackson said. “You owe us two more.” “I never said I’d pay you for cleaning my walk.” “Yes, you did,” Jackson said. “I certainly did not, and ten is all you’ll get from me.” Mrs. Lima shut the door. Period. End of discussion. Willie rang the bell. The door whipped open. “You better be on your way, young man, or I’ll call your parents and tell them you’re harassing me,” she said. Before he could get a word out, she shut the door again. Jackson scowled. He stood there with his arms folded and his big brown eyes glaring. “Know what we should do, Willie? We should do what Milton did; put the snow back.” Willie groaned. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” “Come on, Willie. We can’t let that mean old lady get away with cheating us.

A raindrop strikes the lawn, sending up a tiny plume of dust. Others follow, a barrage of dusty explosions bursting all around me. The leaves of the banyan tree rebound from their impact. The parrots disappear from sight. In the distance, the clouds seem to reach down to touch the earth. And then a curtain of water falls quietly and shatters across the city with a terrifying roar, drenching me instantly. I hear the hot concrete of the driveway hissing, turning rain back into steam, and I smell the dead grass that lies under the dirt of the lawn. I fill my mouth with water, gritty at first, then pure and clean, and roll into a ball with my face pressed against my knees, sucking on a hailstone, shivering as wet cloth sticks to my body. Heavy drops beat their beat on my back and I rock slowly, my thoughts silenced by the violence of the storm, gasping in the sudden, unexpected cold.

What are you doing?” I ask, holding onto the door handle. “I’ve got to move your car up the road a little so I can shovel the end of the driveway,” he says. “No, I mean why did you not want that guy to clean the driveway?” “If I waited for that guy the snow would melt before your parents’ driveway is cleaned. Scott says he’s been out here for five hours and he has one strip of his driveway done, which is now all over me and thisdriveway.” “Scott’s here?” I ask, looking towards the closed front door. “Yeah, he just went in to get better gloves from your dad. Now that you’re here we can get the driveway cleared in under an hour.” I look back at the neighbour and realise that Travis might have a point about the snow blower. “An hour?” I scoff. “Thirty minutes tops.” His hand stops inches from the ignition and he looks up at me. “Is that a challenge?” “Last one to clear their section has to put their tongue on the lamppost,” I say. The smile spreads over Travis’ face. “You’re on.

I hope it snows all day and night,” Milton said. “My dad’s letting me borrow his snowblower this winter. I figure I can clean up fifty, sixty bucks after school doing driveways.” “You’re lucky,” Willie said. “My father’d never let me borrow his blower. He thinks I’ll get my fingers or toes sliced off with it.” “You probably would,” Milton said. “You gotta be strong to wrestle a snowblower around.” “I shovel my neighbor’s walk for a dollar,” Jackson said, “and she gives me three dollars to do her driveway.” “That’s all you get for a whole driveway? Boy, are you getting rooked,” Milton said. “Well, she’s old. It’s like doing her a favor.” “I could shovel driveways,” Willie said. “I bet I could.” The idea excited him. That’s how he could earn money. “Finding customers’s not that easy,” Milton advised him. “Everybody’s signed up with a plowing service already. And if they do hire you, they’ll try to rook you because you’re just a kid.” “You mean they don’t pay?” Jackson asked. “I mean--like one guy told me I didn’t do a good enough job, so he was only giving me half. But I fixed him. I blew half the snow right back on his driveway.” “Was he mad?” Jackson asked. “Sure, but so what?” Milton said.

...Rusty followed. “You should probably pull out your gun. Whatever is in there made enough noise to make me believe it wasn’t a bug.” Kirsten’s stride faltered, and she came to a stop at the door. “Okay, I’m gonna come clean right now. I cannot stand rats or mice. Snakes scare me less. So if I get in there and I see a furry vermin, I will scream like a little girl. If you tell anyone you witnessed that, I will ticket you every time you pull out of your driveway. Are we clear?” “Are you sure you don’t want me to go to the store?” Kirsten met Rusty’s gaze. “Are you clear on what I just said?” “Yep.

After pushing the appliances into place, I emptied our hamper into the washer and started a cycle. As the remarkably quiet load finished, I observed that many of Nia’s clothes, particularly her undergarments, appeared old and worn. “Nia,” I stated, holding up a blouse with an obvious hole in it, “This is unacceptable. You need to go out right now and buy yourself some new clothes.” I didn’t have to ask her twice. The next morning, she went out shopping for a new wardrobe with her friends. While she was gone, my friend Erick and I cleaned up the flower beds in front of our house, planting fresh flowers and shrubs. When we were done, the kids and I decorated the driveway with sidewalk chalk, leaving messages of appreciation for Nia. After putting the kids to bed, I cleaned the house, intent on making everything sparkle on her return. With shopping bags draped over her shoulders, Nia approached the front, radiating a happiness and gratitude I hadn’t seen in her since the day before my confessions to her two weeks prior. Her gaze fell upon her new flower bed. “It’s beautiful,” she said. As she entered the house that smelled brand new, she turned to me with misty eyes and said something that overwhelmed me with emotion. “You’ve been so sweet to me,” she said after dropping her bags, covering her face with her hands. I didn’t deserve to hear those words; the things I was doing should have been done long ago, but they immediately brought me to tears. I walked over and wrapped her up as she sobbed into my shoulder. I reassured her of my undying love for her and reminded her that I was no longer the man I had described in my confessions. “I know you may think I’m doing this stuff just to win you back,” I said, “but I hope time will show how much I truly love you.” I wouldn’t need much time at all. An opportunity to demonstrate my physical and emotional faithfulness to her was on the horizon. 33 Shiny Boxes As the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you.

This is one of those rescues I'll never forget," recalls Troy. "Like everybody else, I had my own stereotypes about Pit Bulls, so I was a little nervous when we saw these two on top of an almost fully submerged car. And then one of them jumped into the water and started swimming right at us. You could tell by his eyes that he was a little confused, but he definitively wanted to get to us. I didn't know if he was coming to say, Get out of my territory, or if he was coming for help. I took a picture of him as he swam toward me, and then this big old pit bull head is staring up at me, on my side of the boat. I put down my camera, took a deep breath, then reached down and just grabbed this dog and pulled him up into the boat." It was an anxious moment for Troy, but his fears were soon allayed. "He was just nuzzling his head into my neck, and his tail was just thumping against the side of the boat, just thumping so loud, bam bam bam. He would have climbed right inside of you. This dog had been trapped on the roof of a car in his own driveway, no clean water, no food, waiting for his owners to come back. He's sunburned. He's sick. But the most important thing in that dog's life right then was being loved. He couldn't get close enough to me.

Iparked in Sloan’s driveway and used the key under the flowerpot to let myself in, like I did every day since the funeral two weeks ago. I kept saying I had to get a key made, but I never had the time. Between trying to run Doglet Nation while taking care of what was left of my best friend, my days were full. I had begun to consider moving back in with Sloan. I didn’t see her ever not needing me here. Her mom tapped in sometimes. She did what she could. But she had a sixty-hour-a-week job, and Sloan’s dad lived two hours away. I was the last line of defense. The house smelled like decaying flowers. I set Stuntman down and brought groceries to the kitchen and unbagged it all. Then I started tossing bouquets. She’d be able to start her own flower shop with all the empty vases. Sloan’s bedroom door was closed. I let her sleep. Getting her out of bed before noon was twice the struggle—I’d given it up. I used the earlier hours to do chores. This was my life now. The second half of both our lives had begun. The before was over, and now we lived in the after. I came over every morning as soon as I woke up. Stayed until midnight. And I lived side by side with my velociraptor. We coexisted, taking care of Sloan. I didn’t try to clean up anything that was Brandon’s. I didn’t touch his dirty clothes. I didn’t toss the beer bottle that sat in the garage. The only spark of life I’d seen from her since the funeral was when she’d lost her fucking mind on me because I’d removed and washed the almost two-month-old glass of water from Brandon’s side of the bed.

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Low spots in your yard can easily turn into water reservoirs and cause serious drainage problems. In this situation, Slot drain system will need to be installed. These kinds of drains are elongated and narrow and should run the whole width of the driveway. A slot drain provides drainage solutions that are durable, sanitary, odor eliminating, easy to clean, corrosion and temperature resistant, must be covered by a grate to keep it free of debris that could clog the pipe.

Maintain Your Driveway for Long Term There are certain points that we should take into consideration if we want to increase the life of our driveways. First of all make sure that they are constructed with waterproof material and are properly sealed with quality products. Sealing is mandatory as it protects the driveway from chemicals, rusts, harsh and fluctuating weathers or any other uncalled for conditions and damaging products. If there is even a single opening then that can be a call for immediate attention and it should be immediately restored. It has been observed that improper drain system and severe temperature fluctuations are the main reasons for gaps and fractures to occur in driveways in Hexham and Durham. But this will not be the case with Driveways Newcastle as special care is taken while constructing them. It is highly recommended that heavy vehicles be kept away from the driveways because they do not have the capacity to hold such big automobiles and plus the driveways are not only meant to be parking zones. Vehicles like, trucks and cranes can instantly ruin the look of the driveways by spoiling their structure. Next thing to keep in mind is that you keep pulling out the weeds or the shrubs that tend to grow near your driveway. Even they have the tendency of harming your driveway by loosening the blocks. This will increase the longevity of your patio or the driveway. To clean the driveway of the oil stains, you can make use of foaming water or wire brush. Never use any type of chemical for cleaning purpose; it will damage your driveways. Driveways in Newcastle and near around areas have driveways Newcastle and driveways Sunderlands and they are very sturdy and durable compared to other driveways but nevertheless, even they have to be looked after with proper maintenance at regular level. The popularity of imprinted concrete driveways has suddenly surged because of their stylish look and durability. They are much in demand in Hexham and Durham for construction of patios, pathways, garden walls, etc. To decide on which driveway to construct you need to have a basic understanding of driveways and rest you can always consult a professional company who will advise you to the best as well as construct your driveways. It is recommended that these professionals be thoroughly knowledgeable and highly experienced. You will find many such companies if you search on the internet which have exceptional experience and an urge to provide you with beautiful driveways and patios.

After a hasty, vague explanation to a wide-eyed Kelli, I left her to sort out Lady Gaga, while I threw on some clean sweats, and dashed out of the apartment. I took the stairs two at a time and ran along the circular asphalt driveway separating my garage apartment from the white colonial, two-story house, its pool and hot tub. I sprinted to where the driveway meets the street. Richard’s new green Prius was pulling in, his salute to the environment.

Oliver noticed that she avoided looking at Mr. B. Isa nudged Oliver again. “Stop it,” Oliver hissed. “Are we done with breakfast?” Aunt Penny said, looking at her watch. “We should probably get going.” Everyone pitched in to bring the food back inside, pack up the leftovers, and load the dishwasher. When everything was clean and the pets were settled, they went to the driveway. Aunt Penny was going to leave for her conference right from Point Lobos, so she brought along