Me:
Hey.
Driveway:
Hey.
Me:
You, uh… look different.
Driveway:
Do I?
Me:
Yeah. Sort of… darker. Grimmer. A little crusty?
Driveway:
Thanks. You’ve been stepping on me for years.
Me:
Fair. But still, I feel like we used to have a better… thing going. Less moss. Fewer oil stains. No actual ecosystem forming in the cracks.
Driveway:
Times change.
Me:
Have you considered driveway cleaning yorkshire?
Driveway:
Have you?
Me:
Touché.
Then I walked to the backyard, where my patio pretended not to notice me.
It used to be a cheerful space. Sunlight. Potted plants. Even a small BBQ that I used once and then never cleaned properly.
Now?
The patio has developed a film. A vibe. If it had a soundtrack, it would be slow jazz and mild guilt. I slipped on it last week and pretended I meant to do it. It’s that kind of patio now.
Patio cleaning yorkshire pops into my head every time I almost fall. Like a ghost. A helpful, judgmental ghost holding a pressure washer.
I nod at the patio.
It says nothing.
But it knows.
And then… the roof.
Oh no.
I look up. The roof looks back down. It has grown things. Not cute things. Not intentional plants. But green stuff that clings and spreads and waves slightly in the breeze. I think it’s trying to speak. I don’t want to hear what it has to say.
Last week I saw a squirrel vanish into it. I haven’t seen him since.
I wonder if roof cleaning yorkshire includes search and rescue.
Maybe.
Later, I sit at my laptop, wondering if I’m a bad person for letting every outdoor surface I own slowly dissolve into a soft, damp mess.
I type in “pressure washing yorkshire” just to see what would happen.
I don’t click anything.
I just look at the results and whisper, “Soon.”
The thing is, nothing looks that bad all at once. It happens slowly. A bit of moss here. A patch of grime there. And then suddenly your patio looks like a biology experiment, your driveway is absorbing light, and your roof might be alive.
That’s when you think: maybe I’m not just “weathering naturally.”
Maybe I’m neglecting things that deserve better.
Like my patio.
And probably that squirrel.
Anyway, this blog isn’t a guide. Or a sales pitch. Or a top-10 list. It’s just me and my hard surfaces having some tough conversations.
Eventually, I’ll clean them.
Or hire someone who knows what they’re doing.
Someone with a hose and a mission.
But for now, I sit here.
Thinking.
Listening.
Waiting for my roof to blink.