Up on the roof....

I wish I my travails were kinda boring, mundane. I would love to be able to type: “My roof leaked. I went to the Hardware Store. Bought some patch stuff. Now it’s fixed.” There, uneventful…. You know… kinda like how they say it should be when you umpire.. No fanfare, don’t get noticed.

Sorry. It ain’t like that. The other night… As I was sitting gayly at the computer - wait, let’s change that to happily - the ‘gayly’ I wrote there was the 1960’s ‘happy’ definition - but I keep forgetting it ain’t the 60’s any more… I was sitting HAPPILY at the computer - and a chunka sheetrock came down to visit my shoulder (it wasn’t raining at the time - but it very definitely had yellowed, cracked after the recent rain - and roof repair was on the front burner.)

To Sutherlands - the local hardware joint. Bought my goop and a few pairs of latex gloves.… forgot to buy the fancified paper junk you’re sposeta put under it… went back.. Got it…

Took out longass ladder. Stopped, said prayer, and reminded myself “you dumbass, you’re 54 now… the last time you did this you were in your early 40’s… a lot has changed since then.. If you don’t believe me, look down.. Or go inside and look at mirror.”

Point taken, don’t worry. I’d already told myself “if I drop ANYTHING, whatever it is it ain’t worth quickly grabbing, reaching” thereby throwing off my center of balance - and, having an earlier than planned visit to Golden Acres.

Shorts, T-Shirt, Old shoes, latex gloves. Sounds like a lot - but lemme tellya there’s all kindsa body parts still exposed that one can get tar on. If it was exposed, I got it on there. One entire gallon went fairly rapidly - 90% on the roof, 10% on me.… I’d underestimated how much it would take.. So… back to Sutherlands.

“Victor, why don’t you look in the mirror first, clean up - so you won’t get anything on the car?” Nah, I had those gloves on... All’s good.

Bought a 2nd gallon, used it up.. Darkness set in so I put off finishing for another day…

Next day, drove to work.. DAMMIT, tar on my pants before I’d even had time to gas up. Back home, different pair… Towel to put down for the short term (short term usually equates to a year or so)… Get inside work, see tar on mid shirt. Shit. From seat belt. Tough, they’ll have to live with it for today.

Saturday came, the day to finish, I procrastinated. “Taking a short term break.” Sunday, after I’d piddled and done every little thing I could think of to delay getting my “don’t watch me shake as I go up the ladder” - roofing done.

By now, I’d dropped the fancified paper six times. The scissors (to cut the fancified) paper 4 times, my trowel 3 times - but I’d never come close to falling… and didn’t drop a single gallon o’ that crap.

Are you familiar with how sticky tar is? When I lit a cig, and went to take a puff as I drew my hand away I noticed the cig stuck to my hand and I was puffing thin air. I’d grab a cut piece of fancified paper, put it on the “ugly spot” but it wouldn’t stay ‘cause it was stuck to my glove. I’d use the trowel to get it offa my glove, and then it stuck to that.

(Did I mention it rained once between Roofing Day 1 and Roofing Day 2? Uh huh. Right on toppa my keyboard. When I typed, it wouldn’t space. ItloookedlikethisandontoppathatmyGD”N”keywasstuckandIneedsmyNkeytologin. Noticed the tar on my hand at WalMart when I boughta new keyboard… Hadta laugh… it was from steering wheel.

About an hour’s wortha work on the roof left. I’d just had my very first “oh shit, it’s over” loss of balance moment… I hadta take a smoke break. There was an old metal bucket near the shade tree..That looked like a nice smoke break spot. (I’d used it for something some time back, and stored it there “for the short term”.)

I smoke my cig… I’m down to one last pair of latex gloves… I’m now ready to finish the last section with the remainder of the junk I’d not used in the very bottom of the four gallons ‘o that crap.

Cig smoked. Composure regained. So, I stood up to finish. As I did, the bucket stuck to my butt as I raised up. I’d hoped the neighbors didn’t see… Then I remembered I hate Gladys Kravats (East side) and I ain’t never met the new West side neighbors, so who cares…

Done, finally. For the short term, I will smell like paint thinner. I bathed, I still smell like paint thinner. I’ve thrown away 2 pairs of shorts, two t-shirts, one paira work pants, one work shirt, and one paira undies. Don’t ask me how it got on my undies. I ain’t got the foggiest idea.

The ladder is put away. The 14 pair of used gloves, the 4 empty buckets, and the scissors with all kindsa tar on them, remain on the table on the deck (for the short term.)

When this old world starts getting me down
And people are just too much for me to face
I climb way up to the top of the stairs
And all my cares just drift right into space
On the roof, it's peaceful as can be
And there the world below can't bother me
Let me tell you now

…………….

Right smack dab in the middle of town
I've found a paradise that's trouble proof (up on the roof)
And if this world starts getting you down
There's room enough for two
Up on the roof (up on the roof)
Up on the roo-oo-oof (up on the roof)
Oh, come on, baby (up on the roof)
Oh, come on, honey (up on the roof)

Everything is all right (up on the roof)

Roof. Check. Wonder what in tarnation can be next. Stay tuned. Love, Victard.