I woke Saturday morning with a sore throat and a pounding headache. Yuck. There’s nothing like working at a school to get the latest incarnation of a virus that happens to be going around! Lil’ brother is on antibiotics. If I have strep throat, I hope his antibiotic regimen will keep it away from him. If it is just a common garden-variety chest cold, well, I hope it doesn’t get him, either.
I drove the hour up to get lil’ bro on Saturday morning. Lil’ bro was anxious to get started. He’d been up since four a.m. just in case I wanted to get started before dawn. No, no, I did NOT want to get started before dawn. It took major willpower and an entire pot of coffee to get me started before noon.
I am an owl in a family of happy mockingbird early risers. “Good morning!” they say, all cheerful and happy and ready to go Face the World. “Fuck off!” I would mutter.
“Did you say something, dear?”
“I would sell my soul to Satan for a caffeinated beverage.”
“Coke, sweet tea, or coffee?”
I knew it. My family is composed of demons.
We eventually made it up on the roof but something was wrong. We could hear each other talking.
“We need some music. Real roofers always have a radio blasting. You got an old boombox laying around?”
Oddly enough, I did, although it took a little time to unearth it from its storage place.
“So, what do real roofers listen to?”
“Pick something lively.”
(Rolling out felt.) Doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot “Sittin’ on a barstool talkin’ like a damn fool got the 12:00 news blues….” (staple staple staple) “Is it any wonder I’m not insaaaaaaaaaane?” (staple staple staple, start throwing down shingles). “Too much time on my hands!” (hammer hammer hammer) “Is it any wooonder I’m not the President?”
“I think I could use a cold beer now. A really big one.”
Maybe Styx and a hoarse laryngitis voice really don’t go together too well. Or maybe Real Roofers can keep the beat better with their hammers.
Lil’ brother got upset, too, about the way some shingles were working out. “So what?” I say.
“It doesn’t look right. I was wondering why they had those two weird rows with the old shingles. Now I know.” He’s busily tearing off shingles that just got put down.
“It’s the freaking roof! Who’s gonna know? NASA?”
*sigh* His way ended up looking way better than what the Real Roofers had done, by the way.
Saturday night, lil’ bro went to bed fairly early, as did SwampMan. I could not sleep. I watched Weird Al cover Lady Gaga songs like “Polka Face” and “Baby, I Perform This Way” for a few hours before I went to bed and couldn’t sleep there, either. Damn cough. Damn school kids! I gave up at 6:30 a.m., made coffee, and back to the roof.
At the close of daylight today, we were just shy of the ridge. We have to put in four new vents, so getting them exactly spaced and getting the holes cut will take a little time next weekend. I felt pretty dang miserable, so I said something about not going to work tomorrow.
“Great!” said lil’ brother. “We can get the new vents in!” *poof* went my idea of having my neck massaged while somebody repeatedly uttered “Poor Baby!” Lil’ brother, after all, has just had major surgery. I just have a cold.