The Grass Is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank Read Free Page A

that residential feeling.”
    “That makes a lot of sense,” I said.
    “I suppose so,” she said, “but the other night it was embarrassing. My husband and I went out to dinner and there was a huge line so Russell (my husband) slipped the maitre d' $2 and said, ”I think if you'll check your reservations, you'll find we're next. You came personally recommended."
    “By whom?” asked the man in the black suit. “This is a funeral home.”
    As we continued the search for our new home, I expressed some concern that every time we left the house we'd have to leave a kid on the front porch for a landmark.
    “Things will be different,” said my husband, “when the builder puts in the shrubbery.”
    “How much landscaping comes with the house?” I asked.
    He tilted his head and recited from memory, “Let's see, we're down for five maples, eight taxus, six evergreens, two ash, four locust, 109 living rose hedge plants, two flowering mother-in-law tongues, and a grove of fifteen assorted, colorful fruit trees.”
    “Hey, I think this is it,” I said, as he pulled into a driveway. “We are officially home!”
    We turned the key in the door. My husband and I raced through the house to the backyard to get a glimpse of the flatbed truck and the lift that would turn our barren patch of mud into a jungle. The yard was empty.
    “Where's the shrubbery?” asked my husband.
    One of the children called from the house, “Mommy! Daddy! The shrubbery is here!”
    “Where?” asked my husband.
    “On the dining room table with the mail.” We stood around the table. No one spoke as we viewed the envelope holding five maples, eight taxus, six evergreens, two ash, four locust, 109 living rose hedge plants, two flowering mother-in-law tongues, and a grove of fifteen assorted, colorful fruit trees.
    My son had more foliage than that growing under his bed.
    “Gather it up,” said my husband, “and put it in the garage and for God's sake watch the dog. He has eight assorted fruit trees stuck in his tail.”
    By noon the next day we had planted the entire package.
    “Whatya think?” asked my husband.
    “It looks like a missile site,” I grumbled.
    “I think everything will survive the transplanting with the exception of the maple tree. The dog ...”
    “He didn't.”
    “Yep. His tail brushed against it and the trunk snapped in half.”
    “I'm worried about the flowering mother-in-law's tongues.” “Why?” “They just spoke to me. They said, 'Help.' ”
    The Original Settlers
    The triumph of man over the suburbs was made possible by the sheer guts of a band of original settlers.
    Later, other fringe businesses would sprout up: a water supply, hospitals, grocery stores, post offices and schools;
    scouting programs and Good Humor trucks, but at the beginning, these scouts welcomed the newcomers from the city with hands outstretched—and palms upward.
    The Telephone Representative
    “Do you want a phone?” asked the lady at the door.
    “What kind of a joke is that?” I asked irritably. “Does John Wayne salute the flag? Does Dean Martin drink? Does the Pope work Sundays? Of course I want a phone,” I said, literally dragging her into the living room. “Where do I sign?”
    “My goodness,” she smiled. “Not so fast. We have some decisions to make. First, let me introduce myself. I am Miss Turtletaub, your telephone representative, and I'll be handling your application. Now, to begin with, what type of service do you want?”
    “The one where the phone is in the house.”
    “You're teasing,” she said. “Do you want the party line that is quaint, but a drag, the two-party line where you share your phone with an informer, or the popular private service?”
    “Private. Now when ...”
    “I assume you want more than one phone in a house of this size. Where is your family room?”
    “Down the hall, first door to the left and lock it or the kids will bust in on you.”
    “Oh. Then what about a phone in your