Darrell is Out Here Darrelling Again

It starts with a hammer.

Actually, that’s not true.

It starts with Darrell.

Because whenever Darrell gets an idea, the rest of us end up living through it.

At 6:07 on a Saturday morning, I hear the first bang.

Then another.

Then another.

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling.

“Lord. Not today.”

I roll out of bed, peek through the blinds, and there he is. Across the street. Tool belt on. Entirely too happy for somebody operating power tools before sunrise.

Most people spend Saturday mornings sleeping in. Darrell apparently spends his building outdoor entertainment venues.

Because that’s what’s happening.

Not a deck.

Not a patio.

Not a shed.

A stage.

In his driveway.

Complete with steps, railings, and lighting.

Look at this mess… smh

The kind of setup that suggests either community theater or a very organized cult.

Atlas appears beside me, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Mommy, I think Mr. Minecraft is building a portal to another dimension.”

That would make more sense.

“He’ll need more metal,” Atlas says. “The time-space continuum is fragile.”

Before I can respond, Leo comes charging into the room with a towel tied around his neck.

He’s been a dragon all week.

“For Narnia!” he yells. “Can we go see?”

“No.”

Outside, Darrell steps back and admires his work. Then adjusts the lights.

The lights.

On a stage.

In his driveway.

At six o’clock in the morning.

A moment later, something drifts across the concrete.

I squint.

Fog.

Actual fog.

My phone buzzes.

EMERGENCY HOA MEETING.

NOON TODAY.

REGARDING “THE STAGE.”

I look at the text.

Then at Darrell.

Then at the fog slowly creeping across my lawn like it pays property taxes.

Noon couldn’t come fast enough.

For once, I was rooting for the HOA.