The Roof is on Fire
I wish, anyway. That'd make today's news easier to swallow.
I was awarded a three-day pass at work, which, apparently, in Army terms, means a one-day pass that you have to use in conjunction with your weekend. So I used it today. Was going to take the family for a short hike on a trail I drive by every day on the way to work, but the weather was crapulent enough to keep us indoors, buying in bulky ridiculousness at Costco while I pushed Erin around from free-food station to free-food station, keeping her asleep in our alternate shopping cart.
In the afternoon, I'd scheduled a couple contractors to come out to see what they could do about annoying gutters that don't seem to drain correctly, get clogged, and rot away some of the soffets. The first guy said he could replace all the gutters and downspouts, and fix a problem alcove, for $3600. The second guy, though, actually got up on the roof and showed me where the roof itself is a mess, with warped plywood, ripped shingles, nails sticking out, nails poking through, and some comical vandalism from the guy who "repaired" our attic fan last spring -- he'd written his nickname, "BEAVER", in tar, upside-down, on the side of it. This contractor also suggested that the roof was not really re-done in 2000 as we were told when we bought the house (he said maybe just the part over the front porch, but he'd 'guarantee' the rest of it wasn't only 8 years old). He hasn't given me an estimate yet, but he shook his head a lot and whistled.
So with the two of us up on tromping on the roof for an hour, Ryan didn't get any sleep, so he was a ball of fire all night. Probably the only way we could get him to down his first Cracker Barrel fried okra, anyway, if he really has any of Mommy's genes.
He can still be awful adorable, though. Erin started crying on the way home, so Ryan did the Big Brother thing, obviously emulating something he's heard from time to time: "I know, Erin, I know. We're going home. Just a minute..."
I was awarded a three-day pass at work, which, apparently, in Army terms, means a one-day pass that you have to use in conjunction with your weekend. So I used it today. Was going to take the family for a short hike on a trail I drive by every day on the way to work, but the weather was crapulent enough to keep us indoors, buying in bulky ridiculousness at Costco while I pushed Erin around from free-food station to free-food station, keeping her asleep in our alternate shopping cart.
In the afternoon, I'd scheduled a couple contractors to come out to see what they could do about annoying gutters that don't seem to drain correctly, get clogged, and rot away some of the soffets. The first guy said he could replace all the gutters and downspouts, and fix a problem alcove, for $3600. The second guy, though, actually got up on the roof and showed me where the roof itself is a mess, with warped plywood, ripped shingles, nails sticking out, nails poking through, and some comical vandalism from the guy who "repaired" our attic fan last spring -- he'd written his nickname, "BEAVER", in tar, upside-down, on the side of it. This contractor also suggested that the roof was not really re-done in 2000 as we were told when we bought the house (he said maybe just the part over the front porch, but he'd 'guarantee' the rest of it wasn't only 8 years old). He hasn't given me an estimate yet, but he shook his head a lot and whistled.
So with the two of us up on tromping on the roof for an hour, Ryan didn't get any sleep, so he was a ball of fire all night. Probably the only way we could get him to down his first Cracker Barrel fried okra, anyway, if he really has any of Mommy's genes.
He can still be awful adorable, though. Erin started crying on the way home, so Ryan did the Big Brother thing, obviously emulating something he's heard from time to time: "I know, Erin, I know. We're going home. Just a minute..."
posted by Dan at 9:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home