Today at 8am, my dad rang my door bell like an over-eager trick-or-treater. He demanded to look at my sprinkler system, pointing at the miserable straw field that used to be my front lawn. I showed him into the garage where he proceeded to have a conversation with my sprinkler system control box.
It was a bit one-sided, but it went something like this:
"Jeepers."
"Jeepe...rs!!!"
"What in the world?"
"Dadgummit."
-(Indiscernible mumbling)-
"Sheesh, two minutes?"
-(humming sci-fi tune)-
"No wonder it's dead."
"Jeepers."
"Jeeeeepers!!!
"Arrrr"
"Welp, that oughtta do it."
He snaps the box closed, tells me I can thank him when my grass resuscitates and shuffles off to new adventures.
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