We’ve got a slight renovation going on. It’s the backyard, which is terra cotta stone and lovely, but the pool is kidney shaped and our inamourata is starting in with the big moves.
“Let’s move the wall back three feet into the hill, stick the pool heater in the other corner, and make everything grass” he says excitedly, hauling us outside.
“Ahh…” we stall, images in our head catching up. “Ants crawling up the lounge chair as we drink lemonade?”
“Or we could have grass on one side of the pool, concrete on the other” he continues.
“North and South Korea?” we offer.
“Well maybe one area of concrete with grass surrounding?”
“The Euro zone, with a donut hole called Switzerland.” This is very obvious to us.
“Ok, fine. What do you think?”
“Throw the heater in the corner, pave over the rock garden and the adjacent few feet, do the rest in grass, a zipline, please, and build a secret room in the hill.”