The landscaper turned up when he said he would.
To “finish” out backyard so it may be used.
Which means a lawn (well, drought and water restrictions pending, but a designated lawn space at any rate).
And garden beds (again, drought and water restrictions pending, and I can only dream – its not like much would survive me caring for them anyway).
And the 6 foot drop at the end of the decking where a step is going to go. OK, so its probably only 2.5 feet, but it feels like 6 feet when you’re trying to carry the shopping inside.
Grumpy was supposed to be his labourer, help him out with digging and laying bluestones and the like.
Grumpy was having a bit of a lie down on the couch feeling a bit icky and then wandering off to vomit.
I think its coz he’s not worked since last June that the thought of manual labour is making him feel ill. But he denies this.