When dreaming of the smooth, well-sloped, gray goodness that was my soon-to-be new driveway, I never anticipated the two weeks ahead of me. Unless you will be installing a new driveway while living in a bubble, please read below so that you’ll be more prepared than me:
Carve out at least 30 minutes per day that you will devote to power washing the driveway. Your feet and the bottom of your pants will get wet. I recommend Crocs and capris.
Just when you think you’ve gotten rid of the brown berries that leave stains, a new enemy will fall from the trees. Small pieces of evergreen will fall on your driveway and cling to your newly layed driveway like a lost kid to a stranger’s leg. Sweeping is not enough to get rid of them. You will actually be crawling on your hands and knees, picking these things up with a tweezers.
You can walk on the driveway right away. However, I do not recommend inviting your puppy to run up to you while you are standing on the driveway. He may slip out of his collar, slide across the concrete and leave imprints of his paws and nails in the curing concrete.
A bird will eat a large meal and hover directly over your driveway. Bird poop actually disintegrates and discolors concrete. Lovely.
You will have to wait ten days to drive on the driveway. You will haul your groceries from the street, through the front yard, into the front door (while your neighbors watch).
Even though you called the paving company three times to schedule the job and each time they “couldn’t find the work order.” Their disorganization will not transfer over to the billing process. The bill will come in the mail 2 days after installation (without a return envelope).
Tomorrow, I’ll be able to drive up the driveway and put my Honda Accord in the garage for the first time. Given the trauma I’ve endured for this thing, I’m sure driving those sixty feet will be absolutely thrilling.