To get another big chunk of our patio built this weekend. Why we decided to do it on the the weekend, I have no idea, but we did. And that was our biggest problem.
We actually started this project at the beginning of May. We got some good weather, and ripped into it, getting the walkway to the patio built. (We decided not to put it next to the house, but a bit away, next to some sasktoon bushes, which will afford us some privacy.) Then, the silliness started. Lots of trips all over the place, and then, when all that calmed down, the weather.
The weather has not been cooperating at all. 2 weeks ago we got snow(!) and then rain. And rain, and more rain. But this weekend it broke. Husband’s work hit a short lull, and I was finished my (hopefully) last rewrite. Weekend free. Let’s get to work!
Saturday we hurt ourselves digging and leveling and hauling a yard of gravel. (For anyone who does not know what a yard is — go look it up. I’m still too exhausted to fully explain how much gravel that was.) And more leveling. We need sand — and the rock like substance that will make the actual patio. (all right, patio blocks. That’s what we’re using. But rock like sounds prettier in my head.)
Husband has worked hard and long on the design of the thing, and has been looking for just the right blocks. And he hadn’t found them before the weekend. Understand now, I’m just going along. I want a flat, fairly protected space to sit and read, preferably with a coffee, early in the morning. (There is a LOT of work that goes before I get to do that, I’m finding out.) But the way the weeks worked, we couldn’t find what he was looking for, so we were out on Sunday, to order it. If we needed to we were willing to haul it home ourselves, in this teeny little trailer we have. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to.
We didn’t need to. Husband lost it, and we ended up just going home. Why did he lose it? All the weekend warriors were out, making their purchases. Line ups were long and plentiful. Everywhere. And he still couldn’t find what he wanted. Started talking about buying a sports car. “An erection on wheels” I think he called it. And getting the hell out of town every weekend, so we wouldn’t have to deal with everyone else on the road. (Yes, I know there is a huge logic problem in that sentence, but there was no way in the world I was pointing it out to him. Hey, it was his breakdown. He could say anything he wanted!)
We actually have a rule for weekend city driving. Don’t do it after 11 AM, because then the idiots are out. We knew that. But we did it anyhow. Like all the rest of the idiots. So we went home, husband almost delirious, and me knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my backyard is going to look like Beirut for at least a month more.
At least we didn’t by the erection on wheels.