Carl phoned me once more. Carl calls me quite a bit. I hope someone takes Carl's telephone away. He says "Hail." One word followed by complete silence. Carl has made a habit of this.

We-Carl. others less prone to call-live in a close-knit neighborhood. Everyone knows each other so Carl supposes this closeness, this accidental proximity is consent to reign over communication like Carl is the friendliest Mussolini in history.

So what did he have to say this time? Excitedly he asks me to come by; he had something he wanted to show me. Excuses bounce off Carl like rubber. I went to Carl's house

His yard is almost as unrestrained as his personality. Marking the beginning of spring he's displaying a large, decorative flower. Gaudy, swaying, it greets me as I approach his front door. Carl swings open the front door before I can ring the doorbell. grabbing my arm he back towards his front yard. He looks up. I look up. My brain is the saddest blank canvas and he is the crazed painter. This should be interesting.

"Do you see that?" he asks. Nope. "It's my new gutter cover." Great. "No, it's more than fantastic. It's changed my life". He tells me the seamless gutter cover prevents debris from building up, which limits how often I have to clean it." Surprisingly, Carl's ramblings were actually useful.