The first thing I did after realizing I wanted a vegetable garden was march inside to negotiate with my wife. It wasn’t an easy conversation. She declared I absolutely couldn’t grow veggies because — wait for it — I’m completely bald! Yes, this was her unshakable argument.

Despite my pleas, the discussion kept circling back to two grim outcomes:

1. I’d brown like a roasted chicken in the sun, miraculously sprout hair, and finally be qualified to garden.
2. I’d get heatstroke, die, turn into a zombie, and force my family to dismember and bury me in that very garden.

But as all good marriages do, we compromised: I vowed never to leave the house without head coverings, and my better half graciously took charge of buying me a very distinguished hat.

Sun exposure isn’t healthy — though cats vehemently disagree. But what do they know? Let them bask while they can. I already have enough wrinkles.