What’s that scientific thing called when you do something yourself and it means more to you? The IKEA effect, that’s the one. Now, I’m hoping the IKEA effect is transferable, because I’ve got two days until the wife returns from her conference and *hopefully* she’s going to be welcomed back by a beautifully landscaped front garden, along with the driveway of her dreams. Assuming that she’s been dreaming of a nice driveway. Hopefully the fact that we’re joined in holy matrimony will mean that the IKEA effect will be transferred to her, and she’ll appreciate it just as much as if it were done by her own hand. Or even more, since she had nothing to do with it, and dodging work is pretty much Lira’s style.
That was snarky. Still, I have no experience laying driveways and I went and did it anyway. Had to go to Cranbourne for crushed rock, and then to Berwick to get the very specific type of pebbles I needed to make rings around the various trees we have in the front garden. Did you know that there were pebble varieties? Apparently, that is a real thing. I could’ve just gotten regular old pebbles from down the road, but that’s just what love does to you. It compels you to drive long distances so that you can get the right sort of pebbles. The great poets could’ve written entire sonnets about the hunt for pebbles and how it represents true love or something. Currently, it just represents my frustration as a realise that there’s a reason most people pay landscapers to do this kind of thing, instead of doing it themselves. If anyone wants to recommend me some really good quality building supplies in Berwick, I’d be ever so grateful. I’m going there for aggregate anyway, and the old ute is struggling with all these labours of love. It’s not the only one.
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