CAN YOU DIG IT?

Casa de la Flaming Bore is being invaded today by all sorts of handy-dandy men whose mission is it to fix a water leak so I will no longer be stunned by a $188.00 monthly water bill. This involves ripping apart half the front porch and, sadly, a backhoe digging up my beloved ajuga and impatiens. My lower lip is sticking out about as far as it can go. And I’m afraid the owls up in the nearby elm tree are going to decide to fly off to quieter pastures. But what has to be done---has to be done.

While they’re at it, they are going to re-route the gas line, which apparently is presently in a prime spot for blowing up the whole house. I don’t understand all this manly talk, and my sensitive ears don’t like the noise, so I’m running away from home and hiding in various locations about town--preferably those with public restrooms. Later on, I'll return to the scene of the crime to perform the hardest job of all---writing out the check to pay for the big mess they made.