When I am out jogging or walking or limping through the neighborhood greenbelts, I am often made jealous by the luxurious scenes I see over the fences of the fancy houses that back up to the parks. Landscaped pools, mostly, with waterfalls and fountains and big, garish flowers. Sometimes the wafting smells of grilling meats (I don’t eat meat, but I miss it and it smells delicious to me; I am not one of those lucky vegetarians who is viscerally disgusted by meat as a concept, and so I must actively resist my desire to eat it).
Today, as I was dragging myself along a path under the blaring sun and dreaming of the can of seltzer I planned to drink when I got home, I saw this thinger in the distance:
Let’s take a closer look:
It maybe doesn’t look like much here, but it had streams of water running down it and a sort of rotating water spray at the top, and there were also plumes of water shooting up from the ground level, and from the sounds of the children involved, I’m pretty sure it emptied into a pool of some sort. I stopped on the path and gaped, and suddenly I felt that nothing in my life would ever be sufficient until I had one of these thingers I had only just realized existed in my back yard.
I’m still depressed about it.