The neighbors are rebuilding a fence that recently failed to resist gravity in any meaningful way. An older, shirtless man I don’t know is directing a teenage boy in Hungarian. It is a beautiful language, full of nuance; I grew up hearing Hungarian spoken by my next door neighbor, a ballet teacher who fled Europe during the Revolution. The teenage boy, who last fall was the subject of an exciting police raid, is kind of handsome and thoroughly stupid. Yesterday, I took a vacation day and attempted the highly difficult mid-week sleep in. The boy’s car alarm went off at 8:00 and after an eternity, he finally shut it off. I hope it’s a good fence.