One of the attractions of the neighborhood we live in is its park-like, perfectly manicured lawns. As Monk often said on TV, it is a gift...and a curse. The gift is a beautiful neighborhood. The curse is the unspoken pressure to keep up one's lawn.
After years of watching my Sainted wife drag sprinklers and hoses around the lawn (and duly noting her wondering aloud why she was the designated waterer), I finally agreed to put in a sprinkler system. I have always liked the chicka-chicka sound impact sprinkler heads make - sort of a comforting sound of summer - as if your were whiling away your afternoons at the Country Club with a gin & tonic in hand.
What I DIDN'T know was that they wear out annoyingly fast. And replacement heads are expensive, and "expensive" is anathema to a curmudgeon. Our sprinkler guy (yes, yet another "guy" - see last Tuesday's column) told us to convert to worm-gear heads. Way more reliable.
But silent. No more comforting chicka-chicka. Bummer.
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