I Hate Pavers

Let me be more precise: I hate installing them. I have nothing against pavers themselves—they’re fine. They have their place. I even have some at home. But installing them? That’s not my thing. From the prep work to the polymeric sand, I enjoy exactly none of it. I hate the entire process. Even getting paid at the end feels unsatisfying, like I did something I know is wrong for a few bucks.

So, I found a simple solution: I don’t do it. I don’t install pavers.

This may sound negative, but learning to say no to projects that don’t align with your goals, so you have space to say yes to the ones that do, is one of the most positive things you can do.

It seems like it should be easy, but figuring out when to say yes and when to say no can be one of the most difficult aspects of running a small business focused on creative projects. It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. It’s something I’m trying to get better at. I plan to write about that process here in this blog.

Many potential clients understandably assume that because I work with stone, I must do pavers too. I know not everyone is obsessed with dry-laid stonework. If you’re not in this world, it’s easy to lump pavers and natural stone together. And for many people in the hardscape world, there is overlap. I have nothing but respect for people who lay pavers. Just because I don’t enjoy it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with it—it’s just not for me. Everyone has their thing, and pavers aren’t mine.

I choose to focus on my thing.

Earlier this week, a potential client reached out about installing pavers. I could hear the excitement in his voice quickly turn to disappointment when I recommended someone else for his project. He didn’t realize the favor I had done him. Clients deserve the best person for the job. The best person is always the one who’s excited about the work, not the one who wishes they’d said no. Not the one who feels like a little piece of their soul is being crushed by every paver they lay.

When the project doesn’t align with your vision, the kindest thing you can do for both the client and yourself is to say no.

This Beautiful Day

This beautiful day. Sitting in the sun. Sitting in the shade. Back and forth like a dog. 

This sound of the wind and the melancholy waves. Of the occasional passing cars. Of the peepers. This sound of acorns falling on the old cottage roof with a surprisingly loud thud, racing down to the deck and ricocheting into the bushes. 

This light. These shadows. This blue sky with white bubbly clouds on the horizon. 

How do I go back to work tomorrow and leave this?

I’ll drag my feet on the way out the door in the morning. Maybe I’ll take the long way. When I arrive on site, I might linger with my coffee in the truck a little longer than usual. 

I love what I do. I know when I take the hammers and chisels out of their bag I’ll eventually fall back into the rhythm of the work. I’ll set a stone. And then another. And then another. 

That’s tomorrow. Right now, it’s Labor Day. A spectacular late summer day. And I’m trying to hold on to all of this. 

There goes another acorn, rushing down the roof.