Seeking Myself

I look up Google maps to find the venue for the Toastmasters meeting I am to attend as a guest storyteller.
Once found, I am frightened by the level of detail the man in the flying car has captured as he passed by my home.

The hedge is overgrown and the car is not parked properly; it was parked in a hurry that evening as I came in late and rushed to pretend it was really early when I came home from my storytelling evening.

Had I known that someone was going to drive past my house and take photographs when I was away I would have alerted the police to an invasion of my privacy.
As it stands, my overgrown hedge and clumsily parked car may have lowered the value of property in the area.
It is as well that I had hidden the broken down lawnmower under a tree in the back garden.
It doesn't work anymore; but it was part of my life for so long that I don't want to part with it, just yet. So, I parked it under the shelter of the apple tree in the south-west corner so it will not fade into a rusted memory.

Too many people just bury their lawnmowers when they come to the end of their working lives; it's not right.
Old lawnmowers deserve as much respect as do old boots.
So does my old privacy.
You see, at the moment I need a haircut, as well. I have been writing a new book and living like a hermit while I do so.
What if I had looked like this when the man from Google drove past and I had waved at him, or her, and had been immortalised as a man with a rough hedge, an abandoned car, a hidden dead lawnmower, and unkempt appearance?
Guilty as charged.
It's not right.
Storytelling here