The Fence

Having just pulled out of my driveway, moving down the road, and listening to my 91 yr. old mother tell me story of family things from long ago....she stops mid-sentence to say "Ooh, I like that fence." as she glanced to her and my right.

I began to laugh almost uncontrollably and then gasped for air....I was thinking how funny it was that she picked out Broussard's fence and then almost as if I realized he was gonna love hearing that....I gasped for air.

Of course, my mother reacted to my laugh/gasp and asked me what had brought on my response. I could hardly gather myself to tell her that Mikey was a fanatic about his fence (I didn't bother to get into the truck, garage, grass cutting, etc. previously discussed in some detail on this blog).

Yearly Mike (if he doesn't repaint it) cleans (a brush and some type of clorox cleaner are necessary) his fence. Mildew is his enemy and he strikes out at it with a vengeance! Green or black shall not dot the corners or edges of his fence. He is faithful in his duties to maintain a clean and visually pleasing fence.

The fence matches the lawn or vice versa or it matches the garage or vice versa or it matches the truck. Oh, enough already all this talk of Mr. Perfect is making me tired. It is hard to keep up with perfection.

Peace Out