Out the Front Door

I got a couple things done this weekend.

Remember that water line that got broke in my front yard about a year ago? Yeah, I forgot about that too. There's been a two-and-a-half foot deep mantrap sitting in my front yard all that time, marked only by a lopsided 6" diameter pvc pipe poking out, as if screaming, 'break legs here'. I had been intending to either get in there myself and replace the patched pipe, or spend money on a plumber guy. It never happened. I can only imagine Paul coming inside every time he finished mowing his lawn and cursing me out about almost having his knees bent backward on that last pass by the rose bushes. I know. It's horrible, me being all white-trashy like that. I'm not sure if it was some subconscious passive-aggressive attempt to get back at him for his cats manuring my flowers. I don't think so. But if it's subconscious, how would I know?

Anyway, the city wouldn't freebie me the two meterboxes I needed to sink down to the subfrost level of the pipe. So I tossed down 50 bucks for those hefty suckers, and spent some time Saturday squaring off a nice deep slot to accommodate them. One inguinal hernia and several flattened vertebrae later, and it was done! I have returned balance to several square feet of the neighborhood. Now I can just leave the pipe alone, in its patched state until we sell the place, or it bursts open again, but at least it'll be easy to get to.

Giselle and Harrison played out in the front yard with Paul's son most of the day Saturday. And I can vouch that things got a bit traumatic for Harrison, because Amanda tells me Paul's boy knocked on the door again Sunday morning while I was out shopping at Home Depot. She said that when Harrison heard the knock, he looked up and grumbled, "oh great. Giselle gon' hit me the face an' Dad put me in my room" eheh. He can be fairly articulate when he wants to be. Although it didn't happen quite like he said, but I feel for the little guy. The older kids run circles around him, confrontations happen, he gets progressively more and more put out until he ends up having a mental breakdown of fit throwing and has to time out in his room.

I also sunk some of the GWB tax cut check into the remaining lumber for the garage entry, and that should get delivered today. All I need to do now is figure out where the heck the contractors got the siding for the rest of our house, since it doesn't match anything in town exactly. They probably ordered the stuff in bulk from some slave labor camp in Guatemala. I guess I'll just have to go for a close match.