Gemotions

"This is going to be good," I thought, watching Mr. Peterson struggle to hammer in the first post. The man had barely a clue about this sort of thing, and he'd been so sure he could do it all himself, save a few dollars.

I'd tried to advise him, you know. I even offered to lend him a hand. But he'd given me a look, like I was trying to swindle him. Now he was sweating like a pig and the post was already leaning at a ridiculous angle.

I leaned back against my porch railing, enjoying the cool morning air. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. And my neighbor's folly was about to begin.