Like a Good Neighbor

Having a home instantly makes you older; it does not, however, make you wiser. Such is my theory, backed with evidence from the weekend just passed.

Older:

Exhibit A1

I complained to Erica on Sunday afternoon about the neighborhood kids riding their bikes down our driveway and - on those occasions when they couldn't complete the full turnaround - across our lawn. I griped about liability, I moaned about potential damage, and I believe at one point during my rant I may have even questioned their upbringing, which begs the question, "What the heck has happened to me?"

Exhibit A2

I found myself feeling stressed this weekend about our mounting "To Do" list of chores and tasks to settle our home. My dad and my neighbor both assured me during separate conversations that the "To Do" list will never get shorter than half a page no matter how hard I try.


Not Wiser:

Exhibit B

I decided to substitute a wooden stool for a step ladder on Sunday as I worked to replace an exterior spotlight on the front of our house. Our ladder is much too big for such a small task. My neighbor, who I would conservatively estimate is in his eighth decade on this planet, saw bad things in my future, so he carried his own step ladder across the street for me to use. My foolishness is so inspiring that it motivates elderly men to great feats of strength.

On the upside, I did think to cut the power to the external spotlight before attempting to pry loose the piece of the light that broke off inside the socket. For me, that's an improvement.

Sigh. It won't belong before I find myself saying things like this: "Big day tomorrow ... Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we're going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time. "