The phone rang. I answered. It was Carl yet again. Carl checks in via phone quite a bit. I hope someone takes Carl's phone away. He says "Howdy." One word followed by complete silence. With Carl a pattern has formed.

We-Carl, I, others-live in a small, quaint neighborhood. We all know one another and Carl thinks this communion, this accidental proximity is reason to take control of telephone lines as if Carl is the friendliest Stalin ever.

So why did my favorite neighbor dial me this time? In a hurried and strangely ecstatic voice he tells me to come by his place; he wanted to show me something. Ok, Carl, after I'd ran through a litany of reasons not to. Carl expertly showed them to be only excuses. Carl is good at this. If he is good at anything, that thing is unfurling

Carl's accommodations are almost as loud as his personality. Example: his yard usually displays season-appropriate decorations. It's spring now and so what does he have propped up? A huge, decorative groundhog. Swaying, it greets me as I head towards his front door. The best neighbor ever pops out the door before I am able to ring the doorbell. He has an ear-to-ear grin. He pulls me by my arm back out to the front lawn. Carl looks up. I look up. We're both looking up. This should be interesting.

I discover Carl asked me over so he could tell me about his gutter covers, which he claims keeps leaves from clogging it. Surprisingly, Carl's ramblings were actually of use.

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