This is Saturday morning and Jasmine and I went for our usual play time in the back yard. While she was checking out the sniffs for the usual overnight visitors--cat next door, raccoon, squirrels--I took a good look in the cool morning light at the work that has been done on the patio so far.

It made me so angry and discouraged, I just have to write about it to deal with it. That nasty oily green termite insecticide is everywhere--on the brickwork, splattered all over the cement, the steps, around the garden. Everywhere. As you know, cement and brick is porous. It will be difficult, if not impossible, to get it clean, and certainly another major project. The place looks like a housing project trashed by the homies.

Even the circular brick wall around my garden--sacred, as you know--has oily stains where they left the rollers overnight. For no reason except that they were too lazy to take their cojones over to the work table to lay the stuff down.

I bought this house because I fell in love with the back yard, the beautiful sweep of brick work and the unusual shape of the patio. All garbage now. I'm sick about it. I just want to cry.