Have an Effie, Hon…

I hate being called “Hon”. Especially in that way of an old Southern Belle wanna be. Kinda like “darhlin’ “, but hickier somehow.

My unlisted number phone had been plugged into the barn wall for about 10 minutes when it rang. Brrrrring! Brrrrrring!

“Hello!” says me.

“Now, Hon…”(this isn’t exactly starting off of the right foot with new neighbors I can tell by her frosty tone), “Your tree has fallen over on my fence and what’re you gonna do about it?”

“Uhm…Huh?” “Who *is* this?!?”

“I’m ova here on the back side of yore propaty and yore big ole tree has smashed my mama’s fence!, HON!”

Needless to say, I was stunned…to be called “Hon”, “HON!”, and for the rude welcome to the neighborhood.

Too bad that stunned didn’t clamp my mouth shut…or still my hand.

After stammering “I’ll check it out.” my hand shot to the cradle and she was hearing a buzzing dial tone.

I grabbed the yellow pages and found Alliance Fence Company, called and got Robert at 5:30 in the afternoon. He showed right up at 8:30 the next morning and got busy installing a temporary fence and taking measurements to re-install the bent section of her chain link fence.

My insurance guy says that the tree falling on the fence was an ‘Act of God’ and I was not responsible for fixing her fence, but I am too nice.

I had Robert replace the bent section of her fence and then I gave him a new job…

Instead of looking out on 5 acres of pecan groves and manicured pasture land, she now looks out on a nine foot tall wooden fence running the whole of the join of the “propaty”.

I couldn’t help myself…I had an Effie.

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