I guess I did something really bad in a past life
I feel tonight like Sisyphus.
My longtime reader(s) may remember the leak my roof developed, over my bathroom, late last summer, which destroyed part of the ceiling. At first it seemed this would be a moderate annoyance-- would have to call a roofer to come, etc. I had not predicted that I would have to call a roofer to come, and call him to come again, and call him to come again, and call him to come again. And in between those calls, at night in whipping November rains, climb on the roof with blowing tarps and ropes and bricks and hammers and staple-guns and two-by-fours to try to stem the flood. And how I'd live for months with a big, dripping black hole over the shower, crumbling drywall on my head. By December, the leak in the roof had become one of the overriding facts of my daily life. The drooling maw in the ceiling was becoming a member of the household, and I began to form a nihilistic philosophy around it.
Finally, sometime in January, the roofer finally hit the magic spot. The day it poured rain and the ceiling did not drip was the best day of the year for me. I literally jumped up and down in the bathroom and did a little dance. I felt liberated. Pure joy. But, pessimist that I am, I didn't quite believe the problem was fixed, so I delayed repairing the ceiling. I waited and watched over two months, through half a dozen rainstorms. Half a dozen times I stood on a chair in the bathtub with my headlamp on, stuck my head up through the black hole, and looked everywhere for any sign of leaking. None. At last I allowed it could be true: the roof was fixed.
Over my last vacation, I spent a full day repairing the ceiling. I was pretty proud of myself. Last week I finished sanding out the feathered layers of joint compound. Just needs a little paint now, will be good as new.
And then. Tonight. I came home from a party. And. The. Fucking. Ceiling. Is. Dripping. The joint compound turned to goop, drywall falling down, paint peeling, joint tape coming off in globs. Had to drill big holes to let the water out. Drip drip drip drip from everywhere. And the forecast is for five more days of rain. Back to square one. Start all over.
Honestly, at this point, the simplest solution seems to be selling my home.
My longtime reader(s) may remember the leak my roof developed, over my bathroom, late last summer, which destroyed part of the ceiling. At first it seemed this would be a moderate annoyance-- would have to call a roofer to come, etc. I had not predicted that I would have to call a roofer to come, and call him to come again, and call him to come again, and call him to come again. And in between those calls, at night in whipping November rains, climb on the roof with blowing tarps and ropes and bricks and hammers and staple-guns and two-by-fours to try to stem the flood. And how I'd live for months with a big, dripping black hole over the shower, crumbling drywall on my head. By December, the leak in the roof had become one of the overriding facts of my daily life. The drooling maw in the ceiling was becoming a member of the household, and I began to form a nihilistic philosophy around it.
Finally, sometime in January, the roofer finally hit the magic spot. The day it poured rain and the ceiling did not drip was the best day of the year for me. I literally jumped up and down in the bathroom and did a little dance. I felt liberated. Pure joy. But, pessimist that I am, I didn't quite believe the problem was fixed, so I delayed repairing the ceiling. I waited and watched over two months, through half a dozen rainstorms. Half a dozen times I stood on a chair in the bathtub with my headlamp on, stuck my head up through the black hole, and looked everywhere for any sign of leaking. None. At last I allowed it could be true: the roof was fixed.
Over my last vacation, I spent a full day repairing the ceiling. I was pretty proud of myself. Last week I finished sanding out the feathered layers of joint compound. Just needs a little paint now, will be good as new.
And then. Tonight. I came home from a party. And. The. Fucking. Ceiling. Is. Dripping. The joint compound turned to goop, drywall falling down, paint peeling, joint tape coming off in globs. Had to drill big holes to let the water out. Drip drip drip drip from everywhere. And the forecast is for five more days of rain. Back to square one. Start all over.
Honestly, at this point, the simplest solution seems to be selling my home.
posted by Turbo at 10:29 PM
1 Comments:
that seems a bit drastic since you'll need to repair anyway...
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