Today’s gonna be a special day. The sun is shinning, the birds are singing, and the dog is doing his part by barking at, well, nothing. He’s just a dog.
As I stand in front of my humble abode with the weeds up to my knees, and thorny vines taking over the chimney, I have renewed, once again, my vow to do something about my slovenly existence.
Today, friends and neighbors, I will work up a sweat.
Don’t panic! Please! There is a method to my madness.
You see, there is an advantage to being one of the only senior citizens on the block. Our thirty-something neighbors think we are positively old. I just may represent their best chance to do a neighbor a good turn. For example, three years ago we had a small tornado rip some pine trees up in our neighborhood. Before I could get outside to work on the mess, my younger neighbors has wielded their chainsaws like modern day Wyatt Earps with a six-gun. The wood chips and saw dust were flying around like bullets at the O.K. Corral. They had my property cleared of debris in no time.
So, I will get out of my shorts and sandals, don some work jeans and boots, and get to work. I figure I am good for about thirty minutes before the sweat builds to the point that you can see my fat belly through my tee-shirt, and my jeans will have slipped to the point of showing fashionable crack. That’s when they will show up and take care of that stuff for me.