Procrastination
I'm avoiding every conceivable commitment today.
From picking up the damn watering can (as you have strongly suggested), to deciding on the Garden Re-Do series name, to writing up the details of yesterday's first design consult with Nani (aka The Nani Diaries, as you so cleverly put it).
Instead, as the living room darkens around me, I'm sitting here like a lump eating peanut butter out of a jar and wondering where I'm going to find the energy and the money to get going on this garden project.
Which is exactly why the garden looks the way it does, duh!
Maybe this is part of the design process? Stucc-Oh'd? (That's from you, too). I've been envisioning this space for so many years, have solicited advice from so many smart people, and have planted it already in so many actual and imaginery ways, I can't see anything out there but my own lethargy.
I can't even commit to a budget. In yesterday's meeting I said "5 K". It seems a lot of money for a mere 360 sq ft (particularly after what the fountain alone cost me last year) but a beautiful courtyard will offset the downside of remaining in this house, and I really don't want to move.
You mean we haven't talked about that downside? About why I built that massive fountain to begin with? About my desperate need to mask the noise generated by the diners, drinkers and cigarette smokers who sit at outdoor tables on the other side of my fence? Like INCHES away from my life?
Yes, gentle readers, necessity really IS the mother of invention. And that's why my tiny side yard has a huge 7' high x 12' wide concrete fountain. Its recirculating water (driven by a monster pump through three wide scuppers which spill from on high) makes a VERY LOUD SOUND.
And yet, through it all, I can still hear the peanut butter calling....
7:54 PM ET | 03- 6-2008 | permalink
