Attack of the Psycho Commie Roof Zombies

Can I just remark that today really sucked?

On a sunny morning, we set off to Home Depot to rent a 10-foot stepladder, an act made more complicated by the fact that we are the only family in Valencia County not to own a pickup truck. Strapping the ladder to the roof of Kathy's Subaru was but the beginning of an adventure.

All this was necessary because the roof panel over the hot tub in the breezeway was beginning to fall down, and since it was a twelve-foot ceiling we needed a bigger ladder than we had on the premises.

In the event, the ladder turned out to be useless. It sprawled so much that I couldn't get near any of the areas where I needed to work, so I ended up using smaller ladders and/or balancing precariously on the edge of the hot tub, hoping I wouldn't accidentally step through the styrofoam cover and land in the tub.

On top of all that, the weather began to deteriorate. A hard wind began to blow, the sun went away, the temperature dropped about fifteen degrees, and rain began to come down in buckets.

Since I was after all beneath a roof the rain wasn't a problem (except when it came to returning the ladder to Home Depot), but the wind was still biting.

On top of that, I had to hammer in long ringed nails more or less directly over my head. It was difficult to hammer straight in those conditions, and every time I thwacked away, bits of paint and plaster rained down in my face. If I missed the nailhead, I put a big dent or hole in the roof panel.

So here I am in my final outfit. A red-and-white plaid scarf is muffling my neck, I'm wearing my swank Danier jacket, and I've donned a sterile mask and goggles to keep bits of plaster from falling in my eyes, nose, and mouth. To keep my head and ears warm I'm wearing a rabbit-fur-lined winter hat from the People's Liberation Army.

In the end, the job was done. Not prettily, but done.

Watch out, you lot. I've got a hammer, and I know how to use it.