We have recently spent two grueling weeks during a record heat wave working on what I came to call the “Pretty Patio Project.” After years of barely acknowledging our backyard existed because the deck was basically threatening life and limb, we were ready to dig in — literally — and pretty the space up.
We completed it last weekend. It was glorious. The table gleamed. The umbrella over the table fluttered gently in the breeze. It has a vintage pattern and fringe. It’s so cute.
The following week, we enjoyed one blissful dinner on our lovely patio table. Dining al fresco is so refreshing. Mr. Wonderful and I surveyed our hard work over steak and salad. We felt so classy. I vowed to make this a regular summertime event.
As we have enjoyed the back patio and garden, it did occur to me more than once that perhaps I should be more concerned about leaving that patio table umbrella fluttering in the breeze so often? I decided I shouldn’t. The last umbrella, I am NOT proud to say, was up for about six years straight year round without incident — and this includes blizzards. Suffice to say, I’m not really good at securing things. Spoiler alert: My lack of concern was the WRONG choice. I should have been deeply concerned, very.
I glanced outside to find the umbrella upside down in the yard some distance away. No worries, I would just go retrieve the umbrella and slide it back into the table and base. Only when I stepped outside did the full extent of my foolish inaction hit me. The entire glass top of this very large and heavy table had shattered.
I can’t prove it and the backyard camera saw nothing, but I am deeply suspicious that the umbrella was involved. It probably took notes from our free-range goat and made a bid for freedom.
Glass was everywhere. It was basically shrapnel as far as the eye could see.That tempered glass can FLY. It’s on the concrete. It’s in the flowerbeds. It’s on every chair. It may be on the roof if not actually propelled into space. I don’t even know what to say. Obviously, we can’t have nice things. Surveying the glittering chaos, there was only one thing to do — I laughed.
I’ve tried as I’ve aged to take things in perspective. There is no use crying over spilled milk — or in this case broken glass. This is definitely what I call a petty problem. Is it annoying? Yes. Is it a mess? Yes. Is it a disappointment? Yes. Is it easily remedied with a broom and dustpan? Absolutely. That makes it a petty problem.
This is not a trial nor is it a tragedy. People have real issues. This isn’t one. This is … something to talk about. Plus, I got an excellent workout stooping and scooping up what seemed like endless piles of glass.
Inspiration
I also enjoyed hopping onto my personal muse — and Mr. Wonderful’s nemesis — Pinterest. On that magical site of magazine-quality photos and links is where I become convinced that a variety of projects are “easy DIY-in-a-day!” (Second spoiler alert: They rarely are).
In mere moments, I was inspired to salvage a broken patio table with wood, metal and sheer craft and cunning. None of these being something I possess doesn’t slow me down even one little bit. I forwarded the most promising and complicated links to Mr. Wonderful. I can just imagine his excitement.
Trying to clean up the final debris, I dragged out the pressure washer. I have never been able to get that gas fired monster to start for me. I pull and pull but it resists me. It always needs Mr. Wonderful.
This was my time to shine! I carefully laid out the hoses. I pulled and it started on the third or maybe the fifth pull. This was so exciting!
I aimed the nozzle toward the patio, and the handle cracked completely in half and fell apart in my hand. As if giving up all hope, the pump also quit working at almost exactly the same time. Done, finished, a trickle of water dripped onto my foot.
Wanting to salvage some feeling of accomplishment, I offered to help Mr. Wonderful work in the barn. Surely, he needs me.
Surveying the broken table (not my fault!), broken handle and broken pump, he smiled, sighed and, respectfully, requested that I take the rest of the day off and, please, not touch any of his tools. Little does he realize this just gives me more time to search online for even more “easy DIY-in-a-day projects!” Get excited honey!
