Lola originally insisted on a white picket fence, and as far as she knows she’s still getting one. It’s a well known fact that pregnant women can’t see colors.With Lola confined to the house, there were about seven of us left to build two hundred and forty feet of fence, a Herculean task even if all of our tools had been adequate. Instead of renting a gas-powered post hole digger, I should have just bought some dynamite or maybe some kind of space-based laser. The post hole digger’s only useful feature was that it was loud enough to drown out our swearing. The large screw it used to bore into the earth was evidently designed to cut through a surface about as hard as pudding. Whenever it encountered something tougher, like a slightly thicker pudding, it would kick back, slamming me in the legs and knocking Rocco over backwards. Rocco would then stab the ground with a screw driver until he figured out what object was impeding our downward progress. These searches quickly proved unnecessary. The only thing we didn’t find while digging in my yard was actual dirt; there wasn’t any room for it between the tree roots, rocks, and discarded bricks lurking below the thin veneer of grass covering my property.
Filling the spaces between these posts with pickets is one way to keep out intruders. Using these posts to mount the skulls of my enemies is another. The method I go with will depend entirely on which permit is cheaper.
If our dogs learn to dig the entire fence will be useless. Then again, if our dogs learn anything Hell will freeze over. Hopefully that will keep the ground hard enough to keep our dogs from getting through.We managed to get all of the posts set by early afternoon, leaving only the small task of putting up about six hundred pickets. My mom came out to help for that part, and she and Harry made it around the first bend in the fence before we all gave up for the day. In the process we discovered our yard is about as flat as Dolly Parton’s chest. Discussions about how to deal with those changes in elevation resulted in shouting matches but no injuries because none of the possible solutions involved Mola or a box of Cheese-Its. Putting up the pickets would have been faster if we used a nail gun, but on my dad’s advice I opted to use screws instead. The fence is ridiculously overbuilt for this part of the country, but I feel safer that way. If a yeti ever does venture this far south, it’s not getting onto my property without a screwdriver. Of course if it has the motor skills necessary to use a hand tool I suppose it could just open the gate. By that point the dogs will be outside, though, and the minute or so the yeti spends eating them should give me more than enough time to escape.
I need to install the remaining five hundred pickets between now and next Saturday, when my dad is returning to build these yeti-compatible gates. That’s about one hundred pickets a day, which means in reality I’ll put up about a dozen on the first day and none for the rest of the week. In all honestly this project will still probably be unfinished when our yet-to-be born child is old enough to finish it for me, which won’t really be that far away since I plan to put him to work by age four. We’re building this partially for him anyway, although I don’t know how much he’ll want to use it since we’re basically converting the entire backyard into one big doggy bathroom.