Friday, September 28, 2012


As I drove into the neighborhood yesterday evening coming home from work, I saw the guy a few doors down out in his yard. He had cleared a path of grass, scoured right down to the soil from his porch to the mailbox at the curb. Good straight edges, about 3 feet wide, gently curving with a 90 degree turn to his driveway as well. 

This guy is always doing something, and I figured he was making a sidewalk. He had all the turf nicely stacked on a flatbed trailer, and he was guzzling a big glass of lemonade as I passed. It had a nice visual style to it. I could see it in my minds eye, as I'm sure you are doing now, lined next year with a bed of petunias, a few Crepe Myrtles, and a watchful little garden gnome set amid the Nana Nandina's.

 It looked pretty good for phase 1 of his project.
But as I pulled out of the neighborhood this morning, there he is, up bright and early, but he is not going into whatever Phase 2 might have been.
Sometime during the night he has replaced all the turf he removed yesterday. He is standing there, hands on his hips, looking all tired and dejected. There will be no cement walk from the porch to the mailbox, no Nana Nandina, no garden gnome..

I guess he was either:
1) Tweaking pretty bad yesterday.
2) Or else his wife came home and said “No, uh-uh”

I'd have told her to kiss my gnomish ass.

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