So, last Monday raindrops kept falling on my bed. And the roofer was too busy to come fix anything until next Monday (day after tomorrow, now).
(This is going to be one of those good news-bad news jokes, only not very funny.) The good news? Yesterday morning, the roofer turned up, discovered that a large branch from the maple tree next to the house had punched a hole in our roof, heaved the offending branch out of the way, and repaired the hole. That left us with some water stains on the ceiling, but basically life was good.
Until about four o’clock. I was just settling down to read other people’s Friday Fictioneers stories when I heard a loud rumbling thud, or thudding rumble – a very strange noise. What was it? The sound of a chunk of ceiling splattering itself over the floor and the nightstand and half of the bed. Oops.
It took about five hours to clean up the mess of wet wallboard and wet insulation and to patch the hole by covering it with a four by five foot piece of plywood (with help from our local son, who came over and helped his father hold the plywood over their heads while bolting it to the ceiling joists). It’s kind of odd, right now, to walk into the bedroom and smell freshly cut wood.
Well, at least now all we have to do is move everything out of the room and find a drywall contractor who can rebuild the ceiling and parts of the walls (unfallen, but wet). It hasn’t been a good week around here, and we’re still luckier than the tornado victims in Oklahoma and the flood victims in central Europe and the hurricane Sandy victims at the Jersey shore.