We had our house re-shingled a few weeks ago.
It had to be done. Bits had been blowing off the roof for the past four months, so much so that it looked like dirt dusting the snow, and it sounded like the house was being pelted with hail whenever the wind blew.
This escapade turned out to be one of those dealios where you expect to wait months after requesting a construction job, but the company starts working the following day because that’s the way the stars aligned.
Day One: I was surprised that we weren’t grabbing buckets every time it rained, because they uncovered two man-eating holes in the plywood substrate.
Their vehicles lined the driveway and parked down the road. I couldn’t have gotten my own car out of the garage if tried; the truck stayed over at the farm, just in case we needed a sanity break.
Activity was non-stop. Not even the maximum volume of the television could drown out the noise. At home office? Not an advantage to business ownership this time.
Day Two: There was so much thumping going on that bits of plaster shook loose from ceiling in the bathroom downstairs, and roofing material peppered the bathtub under the southernmost skylight, upstairs.
However, at the end of each day, the work site was impeccably clean. It was like having one of those impossible reality-show renovation crews on site. That was a definite plus.
Day Three: I was happy to pay the price I was quoted for the quality and speed of service I received. They were here and done in 48 hours.
However, that expense had been anticipated in the second quarter of the year - not the first - and that means money will continue to be tight until farmer’s market starts again (mid-May) and cashy outgo starts heading back towards being able to afford “the good socks”.*
Day Four: We found out the crown of my baby sour cherry tree had been accidentally broken while the crew was here – the wee thing Dan bought from Plum Hill Farm – the one we had argued about all last summer over whose job it was to keep it
This episode didn’t go exactly according to plan, but at least it is finished!
*(If you aren’t familiar with the Farmer Definition of “good socks”, allow me enlighten you. Good work socks last a long time, until the heels or toes wear out. Bad socks take 1-3 washings, and either shrink to infant sizes or the elastic cuffs rip off when you try to put them on. If still unclear, ask my husband Dan – he’s an authority.)