The Big DumpTruck

That’s the high-end estimate for patching the roof. The roofer mentioned that the builder should have put that black felt-stuff up on the roof first, which would have helped keep them in place. He also noticed that where there should have been tar on the back side of the shingle I found, there was none. Which may mean that the roofers who did the house in the first place didn’t do great work. Super.

He also said he’s done a few houses in this development already, which makes me feel like calling the builder to let him know. Not that I expect him to do anything, I’m not stupid, but it would probably be in his best interest to not use those roofers on any of his other projects.

Anyway, they are 25 year shingles, which is good to know, but I hate to think I got 25 year shingles and a ten year roofing job.

Okay, Miffy got the last laugh on me. Fine, Miffy. You win. Forget the rootbeer, forget the Tostitos (if THAT were at all possible). But forget all the teasing and snacking, because what it all comes down to is something horrible and terribly painful to me: Miffy cost me money.

You see, Saturday morning when I woke up I saw something odd in the back yard, so I wandered out there to check things out. And to my utter woe, I realized it was a shingle from my roof. Miffy ripped a couple of them off the roof, front and center where it was pretty noticeable. Which means I need to actually find someone to fix the problem and then PAY them because quite frankly, I’m not up to roof repair. Of course rain is predicted all week and you can actually see wood where the shingles are gone, so I cannot even put it off for a few days. Ratzen Fratzen windstorm.

Miffy, I hate you.

Remember the scene in High Anxiety where Dick Van Patton’s character is killed by being trapped in a car with a very loud radio? His ear drums apparently burst and we know he’s dead because there’s a little trickle of blood coming out of one ear. Getting beyond the “is it possible for a standard-issue 1970’s car radio with speakers in the dashboard [only] to get loud enough to cause damage, because, after all that was the point of the scene, I’m wondering if I was taking my life in my hands on the way to work today.

You see, I have the latest Josh Groban CD and I had it turned up to window-rattling levels – which for a vocalist is probably not as much a threat as say, Megadeath. Or any of those banks with the screaming lead singers. Or maybe Sousa marches (my dad had an album called “Brass Band Bash” and it was my sister’s favorite album for quite a while. I need to remember to tell her kids that in a few years.).

Anyway, I survived the ride in, and I’m happy to tell you, there was no ear bleedage. Run out and get the new CD, by the way. More good stuff.

Guess what they have at the Solomon Pond Mall in Northboro? A Lego Store. Guess who had to restrict herself to ONLY buying one of the small containers from the “fill it from the bins” section?

Oh good gravy, the colors! To DIE for!

I don’t care what anyone says, I like Poland Spring bottled water better than any other bottled water. Now me saying that means they will change it, or go out of business or something. I hope that doesn’t happen, but I am the Grim Reaper of all consumer products.

I’m supposed to catch up by writing 7000 words this weekend. Oh, right, THAT’S going to happen. Look, I’m busy refereeing my step children and my son and writing entries in my blog. We had lunch in, so for a big treat we’re having Wendy’s. Oh, boy, I must have been a good girl in a previous life.