The Landlord

A veteran baseball executive was asked some years ago (on live TV, no less) why there were so few black managers and executives in the major leagues. He answered that blacks lack the "necessities" for management; despite fervent testimonials from his friends of all races, and a sneaking suspicion that he had probably meant "prerequisites" (i.e., experience), he was essentially out of a job before he finished the sentence.

I am pretty sure that I lack the necessities, in this case probably related to a second X chromosome, to explain the wreath on our front door. Let me hasten to clarify: it's not a Christmas wreath. That, actually, I could explain with ease -- it's not entirely unheard-of that a Christmas decoration might be left a tad out of season by our Outdoor Decor Management staff.

I can't honestly say the wreath is particularly spring-y either, although clearly my genetically-impaired opinon can't be fully credited. To me, it's... well, it's a circle made up of twisted-up plastic stuff. You might not want to use that description when you visit your local wreath retailer in search of a duplicate.

I tolerate it because first of all, you have to pick your battles (and could there be any more inspiring marital advice than that?); but mostly because what little time I spend on the front steps is generally facing away from the door. It's not like it's hanging over my desk or anything.

At least one local resident has expressed unqualified approval, however. One morning as I stepped out to grab the newspaper, I found a handful of dead grass and leaves half-nestled in the middle; other times, opening the door has precipitated a flurry of wings and avian grumbling, as a little feathered construction worker is interrupted mid-task.

Every morning we've been checking for building progress, and throwing away whatever we find there in the hopes that the prospective tenant would give up and try one of the trees nearby. Regrettably, the epithet "birdbrain" does have a basis in fact, as it appears he can't take a hint. And he even got some small measure of revenge one day as I came abruptly up the steps and scared him off -- he nearly parted my hair as he went.

A couple of days ago when I checked for twigs, I found instead a signed lease: there was a perfectly symmetrical and complete nest tucked in there. And while I could try to disrupt construction progress, I didn't have the heart to demolish a completed dwelling. Before we knew it... there were eggs in the nest.

So if you're planning to come see us over the next several weeks, you'll have to either come through the garage... or wait till summer.