Friday, August 19, 2011

Cash On A Hot Tin Roof

Morning Readers,

     Yesterday, I called Husband, earlier than usual. When one's house is surrounded by twenty-five men with power tools, it's best to let someone know, before your life story's adapted as the screen play for Nightmare On Elm Street XXI. While Butch and Sundance ate waffles, I peered out the door and assessed the situation, while I dialed. "Morning, Sweetheart."

     "Hey, Babe..how's it goin'?" He yawned.

     "Good good. The roofers just got here."

     "They're there already? Wait...remember to wear clothes, ok? Like, you know what I mean...a bra and stuff."
     "Of course I wil -"

     "Cause we bought you one..so wear it."

     "Got it covered, Chief. Get it..covered? I'll check in with you later."

     With that, I hung up and faced the day, the morning passing with all the grace of an elephant trying out for So You Think You Can Dance. All around, work boots rose and fell, every few seconds bringing the fear that a home built before Disco would crumble like the Popsicle stand it was.

     "Be careful." I wanted to shout. "The vanity mirror with gold enamel's cracking. I don't think you can replace movie star lights, anymore."
 
     The babies amused themselves, pressing their fat faces to the window and staring at the workers, like little cows. "Ma?" One would look at me, look out at the strangers on the porch and look back, as if to say, "Listen, woman, I don't know if you've noticed, but there are people out there. Or have we driven you that crazy?"

     At eleven o'clock, the site manager showed up and asked for more money. I told him to get off the porch before I turned the babies loose on him

     Eleven thirty brought a tap on my door. "You plug in?" A roofer stood on my porch, holding an electrical cord.

     "No, no, we don't need an extension cord to start the garbage disposal, anymore."

     "You plug in?" He motioned to an outlet in the living room."

     "I...oh..I see." I carried the cord over to the wall and plugged it in.

     "Si. Bueno."

     I slept through Spanish, so there was no way to say, "Sir, this requires me to leave my door open, and I have two, very small, very curious children who want to escape or electrocute themselves." Instead, I spent the last half-hour before lunch standing guard around the outlet, nudging away hands and keeping Butch from yanking the cord so hard he'd rip one of the roofers off his perch and into the bushes. I made Fort Sumpter look like a McDonald's play place.

     Noon: Naptime and the crew breaks for lunch

     By two o'clock, everything got started again and the racket continued until five. Finally, the noise stopped and every, last man up and left, without a word. After telling the dog to watch the kids, I slipped outside to look at our new house-covering.

The Popsicle stand looks great...

Until Next Time, Readers!