The elusive patio

Today is finally supposed to be the day. Of course, every day for the past two weeks was supposed to be the day, too.

Every day we have driven home from work excitedly, wondering: Will today be the day they finally begin building our patio?

But seeing no progress day after day, we begin to lower our expectations. If we could just see some evidence that they are working on it. The foundation. A few bricks, maybe. Okay, one brick. We'd be happy to just see one brick.

After two weeks, we are left to ponder another question: Is today the day the patio guys abscond to Bermuda with our money?

Given that the business card given to us said "Donell's Pool Service," this does not seem an unlikely scenario. Possibly our money is being used to finance someone's lovely backyard pool, with fountains and little statues and boulders around the edge. Boulders that were supposed to be in our new garden.

We think of excuses for why they have not started. "Well," we say, "maybe it's the weather." Except that the weather last week was perfect.

Then we reason, "Maybe they have a big job somewhere else." Like Bermuda, perhaps.

Joe remembers that Bob, the head pool/patio guy, was scheduled to have knee surgery last week. "Maybe there were complications," he suggests. Like maybe the money we have paid him so far wasn't enough to cover the surgery.

Joe makes a casual call to the company, just to inquire if, possibly, we might expect a patio before winter sets in. Predictably, no one answers the phone. We are encouraged, however, that at least the phone is still in service. Surely this must be a good sign.

To bolster my belief that they will indeed come through, I buy some flower bulbs. Bulbs I cannot plant until they finish the patio and the garden. Surely Bob won't let us down. He seemed so fatherly. Besides, could a man who speaks of pansies with such affection be a crook?

Finally, the company's secretary calls. The bricks we chose, she explains, just arrived. We wonder if Bob had to make a trip to Bermuda personally to pick them up, but we are polite and do not say anything. She further tells us that they will start on the patio this week. "Oh, that's fine," we say, as if we believe her. We want to.

But here it is this week, and of course it is raining. And we are beginning to wonder: Maybe we should take our money back and use it to go to Bermuda.