My wallet stays in our house
The other day (Thursday, May 6, 2010) a fence-guy came to measure to tender an estimate.
We are entertaining enclosing a large portion of our 4.7 acres, probably over three acres.
That includes woods.
The idea is to enclose it with five-foot chain-link fencing, so our dog can run loose without wandering onto busy State Route 65 out front, where people blast by at well over the 40-mph speed-limit.
This seems to be most true of the unmuffled Harley crowd.
Angrily serenading the countryside with noisy racket.
“Loud pipes save lives!” the Harley crowd yells, between slugs of Jack Daniel's, and spitting on the floor.
“What I'm tryin' to do is save you folks some money,” the salesman said.
When I hear that I instinctively grab my wallet.
I admit I'm not an easy sell.
Long ago I walked into a car-dealer.
“Welcome! Please deposit your wallet on our table, along with all your credit cards.
And also please give us your checking-account number.”
“Vipers,” I call 'em.
A salesman loudly trumpeted the mileage of a car we were considering.
“Get this,” he said; “26 miles-per-gallon highway.”
“Old car got 29,” I snapped.
No response at all; 26 was better than 29.
That 29 mpg car was by far the BEST we ever had.
We might still be driving it (an '89), at over 200,000 miles, had it not been smashed up.
The insurance company was gonna total it, but I was tempted to fix it anyway.
We gave up; 26 was indeed better than 29. —Actually the replacement gets 22-24. Over-the-road it pushes 25.
So far two fence guys.
We have a third lined up.
My wallet stays in our house.
• “We” is me and my wife of 42+ years, “Linda.”
• Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s almost five, and is our sixth Irish-Setter. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. a puppy-mill. By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't too bad.)
• We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester. We are on the east side of NY “State Route 65,” a main road north; a rural two-lane.
• “Harley” is Harley-Davidson motorcycles.
We are entertaining enclosing a large portion of our 4.7 acres, probably over three acres.
That includes woods.
The idea is to enclose it with five-foot chain-link fencing, so our dog can run loose without wandering onto busy State Route 65 out front, where people blast by at well over the 40-mph speed-limit.
This seems to be most true of the unmuffled Harley crowd.
Angrily serenading the countryside with noisy racket.
“Loud pipes save lives!” the Harley crowd yells, between slugs of Jack Daniel's, and spitting on the floor.
“What I'm tryin' to do is save you folks some money,” the salesman said.
When I hear that I instinctively grab my wallet.
I admit I'm not an easy sell.
Long ago I walked into a car-dealer.
“Welcome! Please deposit your wallet on our table, along with all your credit cards.
And also please give us your checking-account number.”
“Vipers,” I call 'em.
A salesman loudly trumpeted the mileage of a car we were considering.
“Get this,” he said; “26 miles-per-gallon highway.”
“Old car got 29,” I snapped.
No response at all; 26 was better than 29.
That 29 mpg car was by far the BEST we ever had.
We might still be driving it (an '89), at over 200,000 miles, had it not been smashed up.
The insurance company was gonna total it, but I was tempted to fix it anyway.
We gave up; 26 was indeed better than 29. —Actually the replacement gets 22-24. Over-the-road it pushes 25.
So far two fence guys.
We have a third lined up.
My wallet stays in our house.
• “We” is me and my wife of 42+ years, “Linda.”
• Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s almost five, and is our sixth Irish-Setter. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. a puppy-mill. By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't too bad.)
• We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester. We are on the east side of NY “State Route 65,” a main road north; a rural two-lane.
• “Harley” is Harley-Davidson motorcycles.
posted by BobbaLew at 10:27 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home