A man is coming by to install a new backyard fence, and I’m so excited I can hardly stand it.
How pathetic is that?
It just goes to show how your priorities change once you reach a certain age. A new fence is practically putting me in orbit. It’s like Christmas.
At other times in my life this sort of glee was reserved for truly stellar events, such as:
Christmas (saw that one coming, didn’t you?).
A new episode of “Jonny Quest” (age 9).
Acquisition of a driver’s license (age 16), thereby legalizing something I’d already been doing for eight years.
Casting my first vote (age 18). Actually, that one never gets old.
Legally drinking an intoxicating beverage (age 21), legalizing something I’d already been doing for five years.
Getting a new ukulele (age now).
Stellar events, I tell you. Stellar.
Of course, there’s also a practical consideration at work here. The old fence has needed replacing for a couple of years. It’s raggedy.
So raggedy that my neighbor Sam probably wouldn’t be surprised if Jethro and Granny poked their heads over the top to say they were moving to Californy.
There are gaps in it big enough for a dog to walk through, and it is only by the grace of God that my dog has either not figured this out or, more likely, does not care.
He’s a rescued racing greyhound; and except for two times a day when he gets excited about going for a walk and two times a day when he goes to the yard and runs as fast as he can for five laps, he’s a pretty laid back guy.
He likes his bed, his food bowl and the occasional scratch behind the ears. He’s not exactly an escape risk.
Now I must admit that I did ask myself if, dog notwithstanding, I needed a fence. It’s not like there’s anything going on out there that I need to hide from the prying eyes of the neighbors. Darn it.
But every backyard in the neighborhood is fenced, and far be it from me to break the pattern.
Oh, it also serves as a deterrent to keep people from coming to your yard and taking your stuff. I probably should throw that in. You have to think about that sort of thing where I live. This part of the city has, on occasion, been a popular destination for a certain element that does not share the customary belief about the private ownership of movable property.
So the fence man cometh. First he will removeth the old fence and then diggeth the holes and installeth the posts — I mean, dig the holes and install the posts.
Then he’ll add the boards, and presto. It’s fence party time. This is worth celebrating. There may even be confetti.
And best of all I can actually afford it. That may be the real reason for all this glee.
There’s actually enough money in the bank to get a new fence without going into debt. There may even be some left over to hire a landscaper to help me get the yard back in shape.
Talk about excitement. I don’t know if my heart could stand it.
Mike Redmond is an author, journalist, humorist and speaker. Send comments to email@example.com.