who's walking who?

About ten or so years ago Matt and I had a great dane named Elliott. We quickly learned that there is a script involved in owning great danes. Everywhere we went, people would look at Elliott and cry either "Marmaduke!" or "Scooby Doo!" or they would riff on "you ought to put a saddle on him and ride him," or if he were on a leash, the inevitable "Who's walking who?"

We've learned that there is briefer script for owning a neglected old house. People say conspiratorially, "have you seen The Money Pit?" It is a rhetorical question, but I have. I think I was 15. Most of it was lost on me. And I certainly don't want to see it now. No. Living it. Thanks very much.

The in-the-street part of the side sewer, from property line to city main, is finished. In the street in front of our house an abandoned backhoe parked next to a 12-foot-deep hole covered by a metal plate topped with traffic cones. But having received Jim Dandy's bill (gasp), we consider it finished. Next up: the part of the sewer that runs from the back corner of the house to the street.