RENOVATION OF THE upstairs terraza, which began in January, soldiers on. It would have been done by now were it not for my child bride’s wishes.
And also due to an unexpected entryway for rainwater.
My wife noticed this faux stone tile elsewhere and wanted it here, so here it is. The workman arrived Wednesday at 8 a.m. with his 11-year-old son. I was still in my pajamas.
The kid was cheeky but fun. I asked him how old he is. He told me. He asked how old I am. I told him. I asked his name. He told me. He asked my name. He asked if I had a wife. I do. He asked where she was. Elsewhere. He asked if she speaks English. Not well.
He asked for a drinking glass, a paint brush and a rag and, instead of waiting upstairs, he tailed me all around the house while I collected those things.
He lugged a very heavy bag of cement upstairs from where it sat way out in the carport.
Other workmen have brought their boys on occasion too, but the kids normally never say a word. I think I intimidate them, not intentionally, of course.
The second issue, the rain entryway that caught us by surprise one day when the wind was blowing from just the right direction, was resolved with the cement.
A third issue has also raised its troublesome head. The yellow shade net was an unwise color choice, it appears. It’s going to get visibly dirty very fast. A darker color would have been smarter. I suspect it will have to be replaced in a year or two with a color that shows crap and dead bugs less flagrantly. Life is a learning experience.
My child bride now wants a hot tub out there. Jeez.