I now understand why professionals charge money.

Also why they own better tools and knee pads.

My curbing project is officially over.

It took me a bit more than two months to finish the curb around my trees and bush beds.

That sounds bad until you learn the details. (Then it sounds worse!)

I only worked on weekends.

I also had to pause for a few weeks because of an injury.

I will not share the details, because as you may remember from previous editions, I have adopted the rule: “Do NOT complain!”

Bad rule and terrible timing.

There are so many things to complain about right now. The economy. The weather. My back. Concrete. The person who invented concrete. The person who convinced me I could work with concrete (unfortunately, no one to blame here)

But no. I am above that now.

I know I worked on this project for only seven actual days because I walked along the curb and counted the points where each new workday started.

You can tell.

Day one looks like a person with confidence and no imagination.

Day two looks like the same person, but with lower confidence.

By day seven, I had shifted from “jeez… wtf!” to “okay, not bad”.

That was the most interesting part.

In the last two full days, I finished slightly more than I did in the first five days combined.

Then I look at the first section and understood why practice exists.

That is where I am with the first 10 meters of curb.

My eyes still suffer when I look at them.

Fortunately, I had enough IQ left to start in the rear corner of the house. (My wife, so far, has not discovered that this corner of the house exists.)

A few more visits back there and I may need a robot mower.

For protection from the “emotional damage” (© Uncle Roger).

Too young for the madhouse.

Obviously, none of this started the way I planned.

In my head, this was going to be a neat weekend project.

A few bags of cement, 3-4x bags of sand…

Some basic tools.

Instead, it became a two-month test of my body and patience.

But I kept going because of one rule I have been trying to use lately:

With all this AI progress happening, I also found it weirdly calming to develop a skill that does not seem easy to automate.

Not that I am hoping to build curbs professionally after the AI agents take over the office work.

But it is good to know I have options.

Very dusty options.

Options with palms pain.

Still options.

Anyway…

The front yard turned out smooth and satisfying. (Not perfect for obvious reason - me.)

So that is the part I am focusing on.

The back part?

I cannot care less.

And that did not come naturally.

It took practice.

Years ago, I noticed how many people spend huge parts of their day thinking about things they hate.

They talk about food they dislike.

Their job.

Their hair.

The economy.

The weather.

The loud newborn on the airplane.

Then they wonder why they feel terrible.

Amazing mystery.

I used to do this too. Still do sometimes.

The thing you keep looking at starts getting more space in my head.

Especially if the thing is ugly.

This is where I keep remembering advice from our real estate agent.

He said there is no perfect house.

That advice has been more useful than it had any right to be.

My curb is probably 80% good.

10% fixable. I am considering to stain it after the concrete is cured.

And 10% “please do not inspect this area unless you know a good therapist”.

That is fine.

The front yard looks good.

The project is done.

The back corner can stay ignored.

I am choosing to focus on the part that worked.

Till next time.

3 Reasons Why You Make Terrible Decisions (And How to Stop) - 10 min read.

I hate when the best advice is still “write it down,” because unfortunately, it works.

Emotional Strength Training - 7 min read.

Bad news: feeling better for 20 minutes is not the same as getting better. This article explains why relief feels good but often fixes very little.

3 small habits that make a big difference - 5 min read.

Finally, a habit article that is not selling a morning routine. Ask one more question, write down what the group wants, and notice the useful moments.

The Good Enough Job pushes back on the idea that work should give you meaning, purpose, friends, status, and inner peace. Inner peace?! A paycheck is already doing a lot. Let’s not get greedy.

I am sold on the kettle despite the color. I wish it were orange. Same with the chair - I wish it were orange. My interior design strategy remains: what if this was orange?

Default First: Snapchat made disappearing messages the default because Spiegel wanted quick emotional communication to feel easy. The takeaway: the default setting matters more than the feature list.

Open to Camera: Snap called itself a camera company, then made the app open directly into the camera. No welcome screen. No “what would you like to do today?” menu. Just the main action.

Day-One Critique: Snap’s design team had nine people, no fancy titles, and weekly critique. New designers presented an idea on their first day, which is one way to kill the fear early.

Bad Ideas Are Part of the Job: Spiegel said most ideas are not good. Snap’s answer was not to wait for better ideas, but to make more of them and review faster.

Boardwalk Feedback: Snap’s early Venice office sat where more than 10 million people passed each year. Users walked in with feedback and account issues, which made “talk to users” less optional.

Specific Feedback Rule: Spiegel’s version of kindness is direct feedback: say what is not working, say why, and give the person a chance to improve. Nice silence feels easier, but it does not help anyone.

Correct Faster: Spiegel does not frame good decision-making as always being right. He frames it as changing your mind quickly when new information proves you wrong.

It is a tiny live demo of mental quiet. This clip is short, plain, and built around a trick simple enough to test immediately.

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