From my desk, I look down on the following garden/porch. Pretty nice, right? A swing, a monster-sized grill, a table, plenty of chairs. And yet in the four years I’ve lived here, I’ve seen it inhabited by human beings maybe eight times total. On the other hand, they’ve resurfaced it twice and are now in the (loud) twice-per-season process of waterblasting it clean.
I wish I understood the thought process involved, is all.
