In which some home projects are clearly not DIY

We finally met the new neighbors, who bought the house to the north of us. After the Fab man made the initial contact, I went over to check out the house, and convince them that horns were, in fact, not growing out of my head, contrary to popular belief.


I was really curious to see this house since the prior owners were, well....a little unusual. We're on the tour, looking out at the backyard, and I said, "oh, is that an outdoor kitchen, what a great idea!" Turns out it's a bathroom for the swimming pool.


Let me tell you about the "swimming pool." The two children of the previous owners, ages 12 and 16, got the idea into their head that they really wanted a pool, so they decided to dig their own pool. Now, anyone who lives here knows that Cozumel is a limestone island, with about 2 feet of rocky, poor quality top soil. In fact, people I know who actually have completed (keyword) swimming pools have to hire people with pneumatic drills to bust up the rock to actually get more than ankle-deep.

So these whacky kids get this idea into their head, the parents indulge them, and where is their next stop? Our house. Yes, here. Why? Because they want to borrow our pick and shovel. Seriously, they were invested enough to attempt to dig their own pool, but didn't want to spring for the tools??

This went on for a least a week. Boy would arrive in the morning, borrow our tools, and attempt to dig to China, only to return our shovel at the end of the work day. Frankly, I was beyond amused. As the healthy-sized pool progressed, the inevitable happened, they hit rock, we didn't own a pneumatic drill they could borrow, and the project was abandoned.

Fast forward to the present day with the new owners. I'm looking out their backyard and it either looks like it's been strip-mined or been used for some sort of mass burial, unmarked grave, kinda deal.

So I'm explaining to the new neighbors, that, in fact, our pick and shovel are responsible for the destruction of their backyard, and they're looking at me in open-mouthed disbelief. See, they're new to the island, and have not yet learned the system of dispended-disbelief that we long-timers exist in, and, to be honest, they probably heard about the horns that grow out of my head already.