They're putting up a fence around the back 40 here (and the front 40 too; in fact, completely encircling my house.) The fine, understanding souls at my friendly homeowner's association served me with a notice earlier this summer that I was in violation of the Architectural Code for not having a fence along my front property line (Why is it that they want me to have a fence, and I don't, but [i}I[/i] still have to pay for it? The wife figured, since we have to fence the front, why not fence all around, so the pigs can't get out no more. My argument that this increased the price and the maintenence burden by a factor of 4 did no deter her. So today, they're starting. They're all old guys with long mullets, baseball jerseys, John Deere caps, David Crosby mustaches. They're riding these giant gas-powered dirt augers around, digging post holes. It's really noisy, it's really chaotic. It looks to me like Satan's own roadies setting up for a postapocalyptic Foghat concert. Now it's starting to rain, and they're leaving. The post holes will fill up with rain. And mud. Ugh.
Originally posted by Ernest Friedman-Hill: They're all old guys with long mullets, baseball jerseys, John Deere caps, David Crosby mustaches. They're riding these giant gas-powered dirt augers around, digging post holes. It's really noisy, it's really chaotic
You must live dangerously close to one of the northern Maryland counties, such as Frederick or Carroll. It's the John Deere caps and David Crosby mustaches that give it away. Now if you had only mentioned the mullets, my first thoughts would have been of Glen Burnie or Dundalk or something, right hon? You might find this amusing: Barbie Dolls for the Baltimore Market