Post last updated: August 13th, 2018
Evie always seems surprised that I have other friends. While she is very direct in her assessment of me — “you fool,” other friends are politely vague — “you live an interesting life.”
Interesting, indeed. With great regularity, I am challenged by events that don’t happen to normal people. Momma claims that before I jumped out of the plane for this earthly existence, I failed to pack common sense in my parachute. I don’t understand how common sense would have helped me that day I dug up a chicken egg in my potato bed but I digress.
For instance, a few months ago, I went out to the brand new gourd bed thinking I’d do a little weeding. That lasted maybe ten minutes because of the humidity. Instead, I walked my yard art ladder up to the garage with the idea of working on it.
I acquired the ladder by simple observation. It was on Mr. Golf Cart’s trash pile where it likely would have gone up in flames because, really, how do you get rid of a ladder you no longer want? It has been a colossal headache for me to get city workers to pick up my yard waste neatly contained in trash cans. I can’t imagine how much pouting and curb-kicking would ensue over an 8 foot wooden ladder. The curb-kicking would be a feat, too, because we don’t have curbs on our country lane.
I solved it for Mr. Golf Cart, the trash men and the City. Everyone. Immediately recognizing the ladder as yard art, I got Mr. Golf Cart’s wife to help me walk it across their five acres where we set it over the fence near my Fern Bed. This occurred in the summer of 2011. For the winter, I laid the ladder on its side on top of the pine straw in my persimmon tree patch.
Over the winter, unbeknownst to me, termites almost annihilated the side laying on the pine straw. This came as a complete surprise to me because I always thought of termites as a disease. Logically, if you didn’t have termites, you didn’t have the disease. Poppie screeched at me, “What did you expect? Termites live in the ground.” I’m sure somebody besides Poppie, maybe even a lot of people, knew this but nobody ever told me. Just add this to the stuff I failed to pack in my Common Sense Parachute.
I did my best to “fix” the termite damage with a hand sander, primer and a coat of yellow paint. Poppie complained that I shouldn’t have painted it at all because yard art is supposed to look old and beat up. “Don’t you watch TV?” he barked. Since when is television the final authority? If I want my ladder painted to help preserve what’s left of it then, by golly, I’ll paint it.