Falling Down

The fence fell down again. That would be the once good looking fence, back along the pool, that dates back to when this house was owned by a drug dealer. The fence isn't mine. It is on the neighbor's property because back then the neighbors on both sides put up the fences to keep out the junkies and riff raff that regularly visited this house. That section of fence first blew down nine years ago during Hurricane Wilma, and my brother and I put it back up with screws, nails, duct tape, and spit. I knew it wasn't going to last so I asked the lady who owned the property next door if she would go halves on a new fence. I got a very non-committal maybe from her. So nothing was done other than Mark dressing the fence up with a bamboo curtain. Now the fence has gone down again, twice in the last week. The tenants next door propped it up and called their landlord. She came by, took a look at it, and then came over to inform me that she is going to have Stan, the handyman, tear it down.

            "So are we finally going to go halves on a new fence?" I asked her.

            "I think I'll just leave it. I don't really need a fence."

The bitch. She knows that I need a fence there. It is required by law that I have my swimming pool fenced off. So I got a hold of Stan, the handyman, and told him that after he is paid by the neighbor for tearing down the old fence, I will pay him to put up a new fence, or half a new fence. It will only stretch from the back of the property to the back wall of the house, and the 'good' side, the side that is all pretty without the posts and cross members showing, will face my yard. As for the rest of the fence that runs to the front of the house, I'll let that stay until it rots and falls over into her yard. One thing I know, is how to get along with the neighbors.