While I'm working on the graffiti, I hear a noise behind me, turn to look, and there's this guy falling on the sidewalk. I stop spraying, and he says he tripped over the dog. The dog comes out to sniff at him, and I tell him (the dog) to get back inside. (I don't think the dog came outside the gate until this point.) The man gets up and says he tripped over the hose. I look back at the hose, which stretches from the nozzle in my hands to the ground about three feet behind me, and then coils a bit across the ground to the pump. I'm thinking "hell of a trip, if you fell all the way over here", but don't say it. I then also notice the vertical discontinuity of the sidewalk right where he /did/ trip. I ask him, a couple of times, if he's okay. He doesn't respond. He brushes himself off and walks away to the north. He gets as far as the bus stop, then he walks back, and asks what the address is. I tell him I'm just about to hang up the numbers, as soon as I finish cleaning off the graffiti, while he's walking back towards the corner looking for numbers, and then tell him the number. It is unclear whether he hears me or not. He then walks off northward again.
I finish what I'm doing, put the washer and the hose away, gather up the numbers, find a hammer-like device, and head outside to hang them. While I'm finishing the third digit, he walks by again, heading north again, and mutters something unintelligible. I attempt to say "What's that?" at his back, but can't really speak well given the nails I'm holding in my mouth.
So. That was my terribly interesting evening for you.