One hot, sunny, sticky, sweltering Sunday afternoon in the not so distant few weeks past I heard a knock on the door. My neighbor, we shall call him J. came over to see if the kid would like to go swimming at their pool.
DW said sure and took the boy over. I informed her that I needed to work on my fence and didn't plan on making an appearance. As I worked my fence posts in my back yard, I could hear the splashing and the joy coming from my boy as he cooled off in the above ground pond half encircled by a sun weathered deck.
I was noticed and called so I went over to say hello and brag on my "big" little feller in the big boy pool. After listening to a brief but disconcerting discourse on Nascar and Alabama football, I politely excused myself to continue my toils.
No sooner than I had gotten back into the details of my task, I heard J. yelling my name from across the way. So I trekked back over. Apparently J. had been pestering DW to get in the pool so she told him to "tell the boys daddy to come get in the pool" with the kid. She later informed me that J. had to ask what my name was.
Now back over at J.'s I began to notice two things. One, J. was rather rapidly consuming more than his share of adult beverages and two, he would stop asking my wife to get in the pool, clothes and "everything".
I tell "guy" that she isn't going to comply. I remove my shirt (easy ladies) and jump in the pool. I play with Jackson. Its fine, fun even however I was never quite comfortable making this visit. J. goes into depth on an array of pointless topics, constantly repeating himself in his progressive stupor until he makes the oddest of comments. Ol'J. starts telling me what a good woman his wife his and so forth and so on.
Now I am starting to question what the ol'boy's intentions are. If he says the first danged word about being swingers I'd have punched him in the gullet and calmly walked back to the safety of our own domain. Somehow the conversation reverts back to the repetitive jibbersh he spewed earlier.
Once again he mentioned to DW that she needed to just go ahead and get in the pool and at that point we made and executive decision on our end and began to leave. In my haste to leave, J. who was quite drunk by this time made reference to my work ..ing my fence. He pledged right then and there his devotion to help me with my fence if I'd help him with his.
Granted, I am more than happy to help a neighbor, but this son of a gun watched me build the fronts and sides to my privacy fence last summer. He watched and made comments as I hit and dug up boulders in my attempt at setting posts. So my work on the fence at this point in the story was rather minor. It was the last hurrah to tie the back of the fence together as to enclose that baby for future dogs and whatever else you do with a completely closed in back yard. Suffice it to say, I needed zero help. Also dear reader, I am not sure if it's been mentioned but I like things my way. I am quite particular about how tasks get completed, very picky you might say.
I left and told J. that sure, I'd help "him". Next thing I know as I am beginning to set posts is that I see J. sneaking into my back yard, shirtless and shoeless, to help a brother out.
He caught me at a bad time. A few of you may be aware, but I have constant nagging knee problems. I was bent over clutching a knee that appeared to have locked up on me. So J. assumed that I really needed help at that point. He picked up the post hole diggers and started wailing on my previously completed and tamped holes. As he raised the height of the holes and ignored my pleas to stop, his wife came over and scolded him for not wearing shoes. She also asked him to watch their baby.
I tried to convince him that I was at a stopping point but instead I wound up watching a baby and a drunk. He asked if I was going to sink the posts in concrete. Why oh why Lord did I not simply say, "no".
So he walked over to pick up and place an 80 pound sack of concrete in my wheel barrow. My yard has some crown or slope so when he attempted to grab the sack he and the wheel barrow went tumbling. It was pretty funny except that he was mucking up my whole operation.
After I placed the sack in the wheel barrow I watched him try to tear into the bag with his bare hands. It got worse. He started mixing the cement with his bare hands. I could not get a hoe in the wheel barrow to save my life. Wonder what he did next? He started scooping the cement with his hands and dumping it in my holes where the posts sat waiting. Dude's wife came over and said "honey, use a shovel". I informed her that apparently J. didn't believe in shovels.
I think she realized how perturbed ol'RW had become so she scolded J. and made him go home, but not before I hosed concrete off his face, arms, chest and legs.
He came over the next day to apologize, admitting that he didn't really remember what had happened. And praise be to the Lord that he hasn't attempted to assist me in my further tasks even though I caught him watching, longing to help.
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