Raised Beds

When I was younger, and went home to visit the folks, my Dad always asked for the keys to my car.* Then he'd disappear for the better part of an afternoon. I honestly thought he was just bombing around town in it ~ because it was cute and sporty and far more fun than the tank he drove.

A year, or so, after he passed away that cute little car's engine caught on fire. It was then I discovered he wasn't goofing around. He was changing the oil and doing all kinds of necessary maintenance.

I'll never know why he kept that secret. Perhaps he thought this was so bleeding obvious that I'd 'know' without him telling me. Instead, I learned my lesson the hard way.

Which brings me to my plight with the handyman.

I had $100 burning a hole in my pocket so I asked him to build me a raised bed for some tomato plants. We never talked budget - how hard could it be? 3 days later my raised bed is complete. First of all, it's ugly. Second, it's 5 times more than what I thought it should cost.

The most frustrating part is that it's all my fault. Just like the exploding car. Because it never occurs to me to ask questions until it's way too late.

When people connect, things happen.
When people can't communicate, life is hard.

PS: Since I'm a glutton for punishment, I did the math. Assuming good tomato plant harvests in my over-priced bed, my return on investment will pay out in about 17 years.

This is what I was hoping to see. One upped, once again, by Wunx:



* Upper photo is not my car. I shot this years ago and keep it on my desktop because it makes me smile. It's the cutest car I've ever seen.