Easy enough to lay down the law, but concrete edging is not easily achieved. It's not something a person can whip up in an afternoon. I need cement and some kind of aggregate. And here I'll have you know that useful things like cement and some kind of aggregate are not available through the mail order with free shipping, from one of those soul destroying exemplars of what the future will look like. Such things turn the smile on the cardboard box upside down, apparently. But the bastards will sell you a book about Fairies or Mastodons for ninety nine cents, in exchange for the first born.
I really don't like middlemen. They sit around, that constant sneer of
calculation between their ears, and I could go on but I won't because it's a
little too soon in the day to become embroiled in an imaginary and heart
pounding argument with forces over which I have no control, and which if I am
not careful will lead to phrases like "Blessed Release." So I guess the
concrete edging is all about the hoo-ha and shaving that's associated with
actually going into town, because once that's over and done with, concrete
edging is quite fun to make so long as the hose pipe behaves itself, and the
hammer agrees to emerge from seclusion and it doesn't freeze or rain too hard.