I love my next-door neighbors. Not only do they send me hilarious color-commentary observations about My Life As Viewed from Twenty Feet Over, they also serve as my YSJHTFA HIWS (YUP, SHIT JUST HIT THE FAN AGAIN: HOME IMPROVEMENT WARNING SYSTEM).
Today, when I got home from a committee meeting at the girls’ school (A COMMITTEE MEETING! HELPING HUMANITY! HA HA HA!) Neal greeted me at my car with a sober, “You’ve got a problem up there.”
Now, I know I’ve got a problem UP THERE in the hole that is my head, and bless his heart, he knows that too. But the hole in my roof was what Neal was talking about.
He led me into their upstairs bathroom to get a look.
“There it is,” said Neal. “Slates breaking off. Pretty big hole. Water’s probably going straight in to Hannah’s room. Or the attic. If you’ve got some attic there.”
GOT ATTIC? flashed through my mind. I’ve got exposed beams (not the charming rustic kind) and pink fluffy death insulation with death sparkles, and a number of psychic-certified haunted objects up there, but nothing much else. Except a waterslide park for mice, possibly.
“Excellent,” I said, taking in the latest scythe-swipe from the Grim Reaper of Home Repairs, wondering if enough bubble gum could do the trick. “How much do roofers cost?”
Neal snorted and shook his head. “You don’t want to know. Probably cost you $100 just for them to put a ladder against the side of your house.”
“EXCELLENT EXCELLENT EXCELLENT,” said I. “We’ll skip the ladder and I’ll just let them climb me. Maybe we can work out a deal. I’m slowly being sucked into the pole-dancing world anyway.”
Barb came upstairs, clucking. “I leave you two alone and he’s got you in the bathroom.”
“He said, ‘Come upstairs. I want to show you a hole.’ I couldn’t resist. Ha! Ha!”
They humor me.
“Seriously,” I whined, “I see why women feel like they have no choice but to pull an Anna Nicole and marry nice old men with offshore bank accounts.”
“Gold diggers,” nodded Neal, solemnly.
“What am I going to do? This is crazy, right? This is crazy. I’m not crazy. I mean, I AM crazy, but not HOLE IN THE ROOF crazy. THIS is crazy.”
They nodded. They are good, good souls and don’t mind living next door to the mentally infirm.
THIS IS WACK, people, WACK. I am living a joke. This week, I got five notices that my health insurance was gone, got that fixed, was told my unemployment was gone, was told it was extended, then gone again, then maybe reinstated. I fixed that. I paid the bills I could. I packed lunches, occasionally with A PIECE OF MERCY FRUIT THROWN IN, for appearance’s sake. Today, I volunteered at the girls’ school, made a list of the latest new jobs to check into, and I come home to find that GOD BLEW A METEOR SPITBALL INTO MY FREAKING ROOF.
And some folks wonder why I SOUND OVERWHELMED SOMETIMES. That Breed ‘Em and Weep chick is sooo dramatic! No freaking NO, people. NO NO! If I decided to match my level of dramatic response to the level of dastardly life events and home breakdowns that keep rolling on in, I WOULD BE ON TOP OF THE FREAKING ROOF. Do you hear me? Do you hear me, people? I am still IN the house and I am DOING MY BEST but I am allowed to say THIS SUCKS THIS SUCKS THIS SUCKS THIS SUCKS AND I’M SURE THERE ARE SOME VERY LOVELY GOLD DIGGERS, MEN AND WOMEN BOTH, OUT THERE IN THE WORLD.
Recession confession? THIS SUCKS! YES! I KNOW I SAID THAT! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! Oh, I could go on, but you no doubt are dealing with your own meteor spitballs. The thing is? I can’t live lower on the hog. If I live lower on the hog, my children and I become the crust the hog is trying to floss out from between its cloven toes. I can’t budget, because YOU CAN’T BUDGET FOR ZERO, WITHOUT INVOLVING THE SEX TRADE IN SOME WAY.
You KNOW I speak the truth.
Damn it all to hell. I am TIRED, peeps. I am sure it doesn’t show. Write me soothing things, or I’ll be forced to post more poems, and believe me, you don’t want 400 haiku about a hole in my roof.
F*CK.
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Could this be a sign that you need a big change? Sometimes we (meaning I) fight things because I need to make them beter. And I feel like things get worse until I am forced to change direction and accept that things won’t be the way I want them to be. But when i do, IT IS WONDERFUL!! Hang in there. You are amazing!!
I so wish I knew a roofer to send to you. I also wish I knew what to say to make it better. Just know that I’m thinking about you and sending a prayer to the universe to give you a fucking break and help you out a little. I just wish it was more.
Here’s to things getting better.
Oh, Jenn. I wish I knew what to say. I wish you some very good fortune in the very near future.
Jenn, I don’t know how you might feel about this, but when I ran across this post, I thought of you. In it, there’s a link to Angel Food Ministries which I know nothing more about than this post tells, but maybe, just maybe you could find some sort of budget relief there. I wish good thoughts could translate into dollar bills… I’m sending you a million of the former and wish I could do the same of the latter.
Soothing…. You have amazing daughters. A wonderful mother. Many blessings.
Roof thing – is it possible to cover it with a tarp? Temporary fix until you can figure something out.
Best wishes.
you’re kidding, right? right?! holy hell. thinking of you and sending you good thoughts.
OK, this doesn’t help you in any way, but the description of “pink fluffy death insulation with death sparkles” reminded me of a story–when a friend of a friend was growing up, they used to play inside houses under construction in their development. One day one of the guys went to the bathroom, and since there was no toilet paper, he decided to use pink fluffy death insulation with death sparkles. Owwwwww.
Ok, let’s not panic yet. You state that slates are coming off. Do you really have a slate roof or there asphalt singles coming off? Second, is there actually a hole through the roof or is the wood of the roof now exposed to the outside?
The worst case scenario would be a hole through the wood of the roof, second would be an actual slate roof, and best case is that you just need a few asphalt shingle replaced. Of course finding shingles that match what is on the house already could be a problem. Can you post a picture?
I wish I knew a nearly dead rich guy in your neck of the woods. Hell, I wish I knew a nearly dead rich guy in my neck of the woods. If I did, I’d snag him quick and buy you a handyman.
Well. . . that just sucks. I do agree that a big ol’ blue tarp over the hole might be a good idea. Hey, at least winter is over, right? Is that a bright side? Do you remember in the Little House books when Laura woke up in her ‘attic’ and was covered in snow? And, she didn’t think that was particularly unusual!
But, I do think you need to offer a trade—poetry for roofing help? Anyone? Anyone?
I’d do anything for a magic wand right now. You’d get the first wave. I have dibs on the second.
There’s got to be a book in this. Seriously. This all material for your amazing breakthrough autobiography. Think Augusten Burroughs. Who do you think should play you in the movie? I’m thinking Ann Hathaway.
The hole in your roof is symbolic. Of what, I am not certain, but it’s definitely a symbol. What you need is a deus ex machina, and maybe some Surprising Plot Twists. I would contact the author of all this madness for you, except I don’t think he’s taking my calls lately. I am in need of literary intervention myself, see.
Well fuuuuuuuuck. I wish I couldn’t commiserate, but I can. My basement is a frickin’ lake.
Tell me this… why when anything goes wrong do I immediately curse my ex? Basement flooded? Fucking Justin. Windows stuck? FUCking JUStin. Hangnail? FUCKING JUSTIN!
I may be slightly bitter. I almost drowned myself in the toilet after I noticed it was leaking on the basement lake. Seriously.
hhrrrmmmpph.
Bucket O’ Money on the way, soon as I am done with it….
Holy FUCK, chica……..this is getting surreal.
I give you permission to scream from said rooftop.
and numb yourself with some extra good drugs if ya got ‘em. I prescribe blue tarp and generous helping of Real Housewives of New York while in bed with brownies.
That’s how I am handling things.
There, there. [Psst, check your tip jar.]
And Katie: OMG. Is all.
That should cover a smidgen of the ladder fee.
Maybe they’ll throw in a sympathizing smile, too.
Oh, how I want to be soothing.
I have no soothe at the moment! Sorry…I’ll be back tomorrow for the soothe.
I am SO DAMN TIRED.
I’m just…sorry. GODDAMN ROOF! I just want to get angry on your behalf…is that soothing?
You are not being dramatic. What the hell else can you do? This is BULLSHIT. (OK, that was a bit of reassurance.)
Actually, you know what? It will get better. I don’t know how but it will. I know that is unsuccessful at soothing. But it is true. It never works on me. But it turns out to be true. (Also, it can get worse after it gets better. But then it gets better again. That’s my disclaimer.)
Long time reader and lurker here, but the only comfort I can offer is to tell you that I’m one more person out there thinking of you.
I am much younger than you, only just beginning a career as a high school teacher, and I am free from so many of the challenges you face. But I still relate to so much of what you write. And while I have no leaky roof or shoddy plumbing, I still cringe for you, but also applaud you. No one is superwoman, and you show us all that it’s ok to admit that.
My contribution to the tip jar is only a drop of water in the ocean, but I hope it can at least let you get your girls a little treat, if not pay for a shingle or two.
The thing about your readers, Jenn, is we DO want 400 haiku about a hole in your roof.
When I win the lottery, I’m buying you a new house.
i’ve got a hole in my roof as well, and i lost my job three weeks ago. i’m doing my best to think of the tarp as being a fancy tent
Jenn–
A piece of mercy fruit! Oh you make me laugh! I do the same thing and now I’ve got a name for it.
You are not over dramatic. My 13-year-old screaming “Why do you hate me?” when I’ve simply asked him to take his plate to the kitchen is over dramatic! I think you’re made of awesome.
Things WILL get better.
I understand the tired. Hoo boy. I DO have some experience in construction though. And as long as there isn’t an actual, all the way through the shingles and subroof HOLE, you’ve got plenty of time to get it fixed. How in the world would an actual HOLE get there anyway? I’m hoping it’s just shingles missing. In either case, throw a tarp over it and call it taken care of. If you’re from my state (WV) you can also use some old tires or bales of straw to hold it down.
Does Extreme Makeover ever visit North Adams?
If you do go screaming from atop the roof, try to cover the hole while you’re there.
So sorry. Good vibes, which will get you actually nothing, being sent your way. Wish I could do something more.
A haiku for you…
What more could happen?
A plague of locuts arrive
to dance with the mice
“Dastardly,” indeed. I’m for the tarp solution. Or Extreme Makeover.
We all need rich sister-wives
Can your ever-helpful neighbour actually see tiles missing? (or roofing felt, or whatever the hell your roof is made of?) Please, send me an email…
No! No Extreme Makeover! Bad! Your taxes will go up, and they’ll forget to insulate.
My security code is UFUC. Switch it around, and yell it at the sky….
OMG, after I left the last comment I realized that I know a roofer that owes me a big favor. Do you want me to call him?
Sending you warm, happy, water-tight, soothing thoughts because dude, that really f*cking sucks. I hope it is a small, quick fix and that the last commenter can call in her favor for you.
Oh my lands!
Okay, TIP JAR TIME. It’s all we can do to help in some small way.
Long time reader but I don’t post very often (not sure I’ve ever posted!)
I wanted to say that your posts often have me in tears and I am very grateful that you continue to write here, even though life keeps handing you lemons. Your writing is beautiful, brave, honest and very moving.
Adding my chunk of change to the tip jar, in gratitude and solidarity.
Take care of yourself and those wonderful girls of yours.
Hugs, Rachel.
I just started reading you recently, from what I have read…you’re an incredible mom and you’re doing all you can to keep things going. I know that’s not helping the roof or job situation. I also know the bad times don’t last forever. Sending you good vibes that something comes along to help you out. Wish I could say or do more dear friend. (Hugs)Indigo
Oh Jenn. I can’t believe how many times you’ve gotten punched down. This is ridiculous. I wish I could help with the tip jar! We just moved to a WAY smaller place to save money because we’ve had zero cash flow for a few months. Times are so hard. I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this. I hope it turns out to be an easy fix. Hopefully a tarp will work for now. You are on my mind everyday. I wish things were easier for you.
If I was a rich old man looking for a gold-diggerwho also happened to be a brilliant writer, you’d be first on my list. Alas, I’m a poor teacher’s aide with an unemployed husband–no help at all.
As a roofer once told me: your shingles are not your roof, the paper underneath the shingles is the actual system that keeps the water from dripping on the pink sparkles, etc. (Okay, okay, technically maybe he didn’t mention anything about pink sprinkles.)
Are there any single, reasonably cute roofers in your area that you might consider dating?
Wishing for roof fairies for you. And a good g*ddamn break for once.
The tarp on my roof’s been doing its job for, oh, six years now? When the winds kick up, we put rocks on it to hold it down.
I wish I was kidding.
Wow…….I’m mean, really? Just…wow Jenn…..
I have no words of wisdom, no extra coin to share (I live in Michigan the nations fastest growing SINK hole) I have only good karma at my disposal. I’m sending you all I can spare……
Roo
Two days ago I lost my wallet and couldn’t buy wine for dinner with my new-person-I’m-dating’s friends. Yesterday I lost my keys to my car and house – the only car key I have, and the only way I was going to get home from work and into my house.
After several hours of checking everywhere I’d been that day (and several hours of being at work when I didn’t need to be) someone finally remembered they’d found my keys that morning. Then I got home and found the wallet. And the wine? Someone else brought plenty. It was fine.
Wishing that your roof dilemma (and all the rest) will meet as uneventful a resolution as my little dramas did this week.
Well, that SUX! Check your tip jar.
Security code: UFUN … well, usually.
I wish I had something other than sympathy to offer. But {{hugs}} to you and your’s darling.
Well. Um…… huh. One idea I have is to call around to local churches and get on any lists that they have of people who need help with fixing their homes. Almost every church I have ever been to has a few days a year, usually in the spring and fall, where they help local people with home problems who can’t afford to fix them.
Is there any, ANY way that you (or someone you know) can get up there and slap a few shingles down as a band-aid? Spring is almost over, and summer is usually pretty dry, so you might be able to buy yourself some time that way.
Keep hanging in there.
been hooked for months, feel your pain, love your poetry.
I think you are a world-class mother, and human being, polar bear disease and all.
Clicked the button, hope it helps.
This is a long shot, but worth a phone call….
…in some cases — and no, I don’t really know when — natural disasters? storms? falling trees? — your local fire department will ‘secure’ a roof by installing a tarp over the hole. This is not a real fix for your holey roof, but it might give you more time to dig up the money or line up some charity to get the real repair done.
Or else your local fire bro will chuckle and say, ‘nice try.’
I have have have to encourage you to check into the possibility that a local church has a roofer in it’s congregation who may be willing to barter or volunteer services for a single mom. I believe the heart of the church will extend and wrap around your family and help meet these needs! Please please please, just say you will call a few and ask. I know it’s hard to do and I will totally do it for you if you want. I believe the church as a whole will take the responsibility to heart, helping care for a mother. I really believe mine would do anything to help anyone in need..but first, they have to know what the need is! You are so so right, you cannot budget zero. I know, I have been there. I have been there. I never knew who to ask for help when I needed it. I was lucky my parents were close and very helpful when I was a single mom…I just want you to know that I read your posts and feel so deeply. I want to have the words to encourage, I wish I had the perfect words. The way you do, you have the perfect words to describe, to take us right there..to that place. I just wish I could meet you there, and fix your roof.