One of my coffee drinking buddies was complaining about folks parking in the handicapped spots. He is eighty-two years old and has eight stents. He has a handicapped parking plate.
He complained to the management about the handicapped sign being obscured by the shrubbery. They did not have the tools to respond.
I overheard the complaint and took care of the issue in the dim light of the early morn.
I was humming a song by BTO while I chopped the shrubbery into submission. Great fun.