'Es una chapuza' or The Psychology of Disappointment

I had been planning a very different post. This time last week, we were watching the workmen in our garden, laying metres and metres of concrete in searing heat and feeling very sorry for them and grateful to them. But since then, I have felt differently.  I have felt disappointed.

No, DISAPPOINTED. NO,

DISAPPOINTED

NO!

DISAPPOINTED.

My text won't go any bigger. 

As you may guess, there has been a bit of a cock up with our garden path. There is a wonderful word for it in Spanish....una chapuza. I will share a few photos of veritable 'chapuzas' that I have found on the internet. You'll get the idea immediately!

OK, these are chapuzas that lead to inconvenience and disbelief. But it sort of sums up the sense that a chapuza, at best, is a botched job; careless work, a 'made-do' thing. 

Or maybe something done without sufficient prior thought or knowledge. You get the idea.

The expectation of seeing the final work came to a height on Saturday morning. We heard Miguel arrive at around 7am and knew that he had to powerwash all the residual powder off the concrete and then seal it with resin, so we stayed in bed a little longer than usual so that we could emerge to see the finished result. I admit, I was very excited. And took a peek from the bathroom window to the area outside the door. 

And squealed with pleasure - it looked fantastic!

Just the lovely, soft neutral, natural colours that I had wanted. 

The rest, which was a slightly more sandy-colour with darker tints on top, could only be more impressive as there was so much more of it!

NO, NO, NO. Disaster. Terrible. Awful. Unimaginable. Horrible....I won't continue but I really couldn't believe my eyes. Instead of a gently weathered brick effect, my garden looked like a garage forecourt or a place where oily motorbikes had been whizzing around. Blotchy, obvious patches where the tint had been spread and hadn't gently dissolved into the concrete. Some of the patches were so dark and round that it really looked as though we'd be walking oil into house if we inadvertently stepped in them. Awful......and the disappointment that hit both FR and I was palpable. We could hardly speak.

Miguel, if he could, would have run away without speaking to us that morning, but we dragged him back. I just kept saying to him that surely there was something wrong; that this wasn't the effect he had expected to leave us with; that he must acknowledge there was a problem. He said very little but did that unique Mediterranean high-shouldered shrug, elbows bent and palms held upwards..and turned his mouth downwards almost further than a mouth can go. And then he left, muttering something about leaving it to dry a bit longer and that he'd return on Monday.

I have since been pondering on the psychology of disappointment. 

The strength of the disappointment is, not surprisingly, directly related to the expectation of outcome beforehand.  If the outcome exceeds expectation, then the reaction is very often elation or excitement. I had truly expected to be elated! There is a further stage too. Initially, I was left thinking that there would be a solution. That we could right this wrong and all would be well. The intervening time has proved otherwise. 

Miguel returned, not on Monday, but on Tuesday. FR had been doing his research and discovered that problems with this type of concrete and the colouring process can occur when the weather is too cold, too wet OR TOO BLOODY HOT! I guess the latter would apply to us. 

But how come the door section is so lovely?

Well, it was the first part that he did - earliest and coolest part of the day. Explains a lot. But Miguel, man of few words, either didn't think about it, didn't know about it, or didn't really care about it. Whichever, he's left us with a grubby and ugly expanse of concrete in our garden.

When he returned, he offered to put another layer of concrete over the top and recolour it, but FR was ahead of him - this is apparently the solution that is often offered but the result is usually worse than the original, so we declined. He then suggested digging it all up and relaying it - but finished off by say 'that would cost you a lot of money'. I didn't actually see FR's blood boil, but I think I heard it bubbling....

So, the psychology of disappointment. It comes with the final realisation that you don't have or can't get the thing you really wanted. And this in turn leads to facing reality. And we can do this in a variety of ways: anger, sadness or depression being three common options or routes. 

We did a bit of all three between us, me and FR. I even felt ashamed - I have been thinking of putting up a sign...'Please forgive our awful driveway, it isn't our fault.'

We've done lots of other things as well. I've been out and scrubbed some of the patches with a bit of wire wool. The patch came out - hurray! - but so did the top layer of concrete and the resin finish....

FR set upon a slightly hidden patch with an electric sander and had pretty much the same result, only with more concrete removed....we've spoken to a solicitor and the insurance company and sent photos to the product company. 

There isn't really much we can do....

SO - do you want to see it??? This is the hardest part for me. But this is where the psychology of disappointment and one's own personal psychological type comes into play. I have today been into work and for the first time, opened up about what happened. I told two different people about it - and showed them some photos. And it helped me SO, SO much. 

How can that be? Well, possibly because I am an extrovert and an optimist and hate 'bottling up' my feelings. I feel better for letting out my frustration and disappointment. I'm not really angry. I have felt sad. But as I drove home, I realised that I felt better. 

OK. Here are some of the worst bits!!

FR is not an extrovert and often gets very angry over what I consider to be unimportant things but on this great big thing, he's been so cool and rational and positive that I am assessing him all over again....again. And when I got home, feeling better and more optimistic that between us, we could find a way to put this right...he had come to exactly the same conclusion. I don't want to put any details here - too public. But watch this space...

And taking the long view. Well, the overall effect is that things look and feel much better than they did - if you don't look too closely, of course.

The 'gap' in the middle is to be filled with white stones and provides a
drainage section - assuming that one day, it will rain, of course!

View from the gate - which needs to be rehung.
The steps down need finishing too.

And in the distance on the right, you can see we've now got the little old pool up - an absolute necessity in this weather - and at least it's a pleasure to walk out to it now.

And now, I don't actually feel disappointed as such. I feel rather proud of how we've managed our disappointment. Hey, aren't we lucky - another learning opportunity!!

However, I absolutely BEG of you not to sympathise with me over this. By all means, leave me a comment as to how you think we could disguise the mess, add features that distract the eye, etc. The way I can get over it is to move on. It's not the end of the world and my sense of humour is still intact. And we have found great comfort in the fact that we didn't pay for ALL of it upfront.....

(Of course, if all else fails, I will simply Zentangle over the whole lot of it!!)

The tearing of hair...

I have just almost completed - twice - a blog post about FR, his month-long project in Granada, the importance of this project and how good it has felt and how proud I am and all sorts of other things. And both times, Mozilla Firefox crashed out on me and didn't save what I'd written!

I give up on that one for today.

And as tomorrow is December, I'll leave my hair alone and continue on a more cheerful note. As all our Christmas decorations are still in Leon, Romy and I have spent the afternoon making an advent 'calendar' - a family must - the countdown to Christmas. I don't want to buy more - this year, less will be more. So we have diligently been saving up empty toilet rolls, which we've painted white and gold, sparkled and glittered, cut in half and stapled up one end and put numbers on from 1 to 24 - though to be honest, we've only saved enough to get to 20 thus far. (However, the nature of the thing means we'll have more empty rolls before the 21st, so I'm not worried.) We bought little wooden pegs and painted them gold and have strung some silver ribbon across a dark blue card, sprinkled with stars and the odd cloud - and the whole thing is now hanging by the door, each little painted holder containing a small chocolate each for the children. FR has the camera so I can't show you. I'll try and remember to capture it - it's so wonderfully homemade-looking that it makes me smile every time I pass it! Now posted as a {this moment}


There, I'll go and look at it again now and forget my irritation at the previous failed attempts to post. I have now finished this one and it's saved....Welcome to December!