I'm discouraged. I spent nearly 12 hours outside today, busting my hump, and I'm not feeling very good about what I have to show for it.
To be sure, Lawrence showed up on time and the porch railing is up. I now have a new project in finding something to put on the posts before attaching the finials. (I think I solved that: bullseye. Perfection. Square to cover the post. Round to accent the finial! I think they come in a 4x4 size.)
After all the digging, I finally got to gravel and sand in the mudpit today. My hope was that I would be finished, if not well on my way to completing, the first third of the walkway. I don't even have a row done.
First, I grossly miscalculated how much materials I would need other than brick. Second, my running bond pattern going vertically just would not work out no matter how I tried. I'm going back to the drawing board on that one.
If I owned a white flag, I might wave it. I'm tired and sore and I'm just so fed up I want to quit. Unfortunately for me, quit is a four-letter word and not part of my vocabulary. Assuming that I can get out of bed tomorrow (by my estimation, I've moved over a half-ton of materials today, nearly double that if you count some of the multiple times moving it.)
I really want to go all Rhett Butler and just say: "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." What I'll actually do instead is steal one of Scarlett's lines and just say: "Tomorrow is another day ..."