Meant To Be

We never expected our feelings to be this strong. What if it's not right? What if it's not meant to be? Then what? Would we be filled with regret? It had happened before, you know, many years ago. The wall-to-wall carpet install? Big mistake. We held each other and quietly sobbed. "What were we thinking?" "It's filthy after one day." "Do-over?" "What's done is done." Years later, we ripped it all out and went with bamboo. Good decision. This time, we didn't have years to debate. This time, much like any project that survives Development Hell, there was a ticking clock, a looming deadline, a make-or-break moment. After eight long noisy as @#$% months, the behemoth behind us, the ultramodern eyesore leering at us from the other side, was finished.

The contractor dangled the options over the fence that his workmen had bullied into submission. "Friday, we're putting up white vinyl. Your share is $$$. Let me know by tomorrow." We didn't need a deadline. We already knew we weren't in love with the white vinyl. "We want brown vinyl." "Brown?" "You heard us, mister." "Interesting direction." "You can have white, we want brown." "Then you'll have to pay for your own." "No going halvies?" "No what?" "50-50 splitski?" "You'll have your fence, I'll have mine." "Fine." "Fine." Longtime hubby cut to the chase, one of his specialties. "How much?" "Triple the cost of white." "Whatever."

We expected to hate it so much. But here's the thing. It's love at first sight. We keep going outside to gloat. We couldn't be happier. We adore it in a way no two humans should ever adore something that's the opposite of alive. Yes, we are the proud owners of a brown vinyl fence that cost way too much. From a distance, it looks like wood. It's everything you could want in a fake fence. If that's not something to kvell over, what is?