You know that sound...

The one that a record player makes when you slide the needle off the record?  It's used a lot in comedy these days - despite the fact that a majority of audiences have never seen a record player - but that's another post entirely.

Anyway - If I could spell that sound that's what the title of this blog post would be.

I was really excited last post about getting an estimate for work in the backyard.  I loved the guy who came out to do the estimate and was impressed with his company.  I had visions of a lovely sanctuary-like backyard. It would be the way it used to be before it was wrecked.

A week passed and I didn't hear from the guy.  I tried not to take this as a bad sign, but I was getting nervous.

When Dave called Monday to check on things and was told that he had worked on the estimate over the weekend, I really started to worry.  When the gentlemen came by the next morning and got out of his truck with a beautifully bound and covered estimate booklet, I cringed.  I peeked at the final page with the figures.  Just peeked.  It was devastating:  Over eleven-thousand dollars.

Now I just feel silly.  I was figuring on actually  having some money left over for a playset for the kids.  I thought there would be money left for mulch and plantings.  I don't know what I was thinking.  I didn't at all expect to be that far off on the costs.

To be fair - I don't think his estimate was high.  I think I was suffering from a bad case of wishful thinking.  A quick search for retaining wall and paver costs (installed) on the internet and plugging in our dimensions comes to quite near that figure.  It isn't like me not to research things ahead of time.... This was an emotional blunder.

Sigh.

I am sadly going back to the drawing board.  The drawing board will involve shovels and sweat and digging out those flowerbed trenches like we always have.  We don't really need a patio.  Maybe I'll still get that playset.  We'll see.

In the meantime - we'll go back to focusing on our practical repairs.

There are porch columns calling my name.