At 9:52 this morning, my next-door neighbor (Mr. M) walked out his front door and strolled around his yard. He waved to me politely as I sat on my front porch in the warm Georgia sun and sipped my coffee while reading my Sunday newspaper -- a favorite time of the week.
And then, at 9:59 ... Armageddon!
LEAF BLOWER!
The word "clueless" was among the nicer names that ran through my head as my jaw hung open. Mr. M was even courteous enough to begin his leaf-blowing on the side of his house that abuts my property, so that I might see the brand name of the toy which emits a rip-roaring hum that penetrates the human brain like a sonic drill.
At 10:00, I sat on my favorite cushion chair inside my house with my coffee at my right hand and my thoughts upon the most painful forms of torture.
Mr. M may count himself lucky that I am a civilized man. For if I weren't, he would now, at 10:05 a.m., have five fewer fingernails on the offending leaf-blowing hand.
Alas, my imaginary world of justice has sated my soul and I am back at my peaceful place -- though just five missing fingernails does seem a bit too lenient.
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