Our neighbors like us again

To be fair, I don't think our next-door neighbors have ever actually disliked us. I don't think they can always hear us very well (remember, they're octegenarians), and I suspect they liked us *more* last summer when I was unemployed and available to mow their lawn when they asked at a moment's notice (you think I'm kidding, don't you?), but all kidding aside, no, the folks next door probably don't and have never hated us. In fact, I think they find us fairly amusing, with our ever-expanding vegetable garden, and our early morning bike ride last Saturday (I'd bet you anything that they noticed when we got home about 10 minutes after we left, all dolled up in our helmets and neon-ware), and our sensible approach to our household (see, e.g. use of clothesline, compost bin).

But if any thing could have created some resentment among the senior set one house over, it would have been this:



Granted, this photo was taken after all the old, loose paint no longer adhered to the wood was scraped off. Even when the lion's share of the surface appeared to be covered in paint still, we got a hint or two that oh, by the way, the fence is yours, and doesn't it look like it should be painted? Now, maybe it's really our fence, maybe it's really theirs -- I think that's pretty much beside the point. Mr. Terrific and I are infinitely more capable of prepping and painting (and man, it took longer than I thought it would) than any two eighty-somethings. Particularly the eighty-somethings in question.

And so, we painted. It took a couple nights after work and a solid weekend day, and now it looks like this:



Oh how they gushed when they saw the results a few days ago. It brightens up the whole place! I love the color! (Thanks, it's.... white.)

The best, though, was the comment received this evening.

Looks great... You gonna do a second coat?