In spite of what you may have been told, it really doesn’t take all that much to make me happy. Sometimes you can give me nothing but rocks and it’ll make my day.

The Boss’s much-maligned son Tim showed up in my driveway this morning and proceeded to fill the ruts with gravel. I’ve been driving through rivers and lakes ever since the rainy season started, splashing my way in and out. Once upon a time I lived under the fantasy that my landlord would maintain the driveway, but he has basically abandoned me, knowing that I won’t rock the boat (which would no doubt sink anyway).

Luckily, I had some advance warning that this would happen, so I wasn’t sitting around in my underwear watching soaps and eating bonbons when Tim arrived. Last week I casually mentioned the sloppy driveway to him, and he asked if I would like him to bring some gravel. I didn’t have the presence of mind to say no, mostly because it’s something I almost thought about doing myself.

He even asked me to go to the local quarry and pick out the kind of fill I wanted and price it. I didn’t have the presence of mind to say no to that, either, although there’s no way I ever intended to do it. And he didn’t ask again; he just showed up. Naturally, the company will pay for the material, and we’ll also pay for his time and the time of his helper, so he’s not out anything for his goodwill gesture.

Not that I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth, oh no. I’m seriously grateful for the effort. It made today bearable, unlike every other work day in the last month and a half. I felt lighter somehow, even under all that rock.

Alas, not everything works out as well as one might hope. It was raining hard by the time I walked out to get my mail this afternoon, but was I worried? No! Of course not. My driveway was rocky and dry now, right? Except that the gravel was a little soft, and he hadn’t saved enough for the really big holes out by the entrance. Before I realized this, I’d sunk up to my ankles in mud. But at least it was rocky mud.