Shingle White Men

Friday. A new pay period begins today. I was lucky to get a good-paying GO job yesterday to finish the pay. I really had to scramble to make up for the wages I’d lost by taking time off last week.

The roofers are here again this morning. This marks the third day they’ve been here. Umberto, the foreman, assures me they’ll finish up today. They have yet to install four round roof vents and replace sheet metal flashing around the chimney. I inspected the job this morning and pointed out a couple of areas of concern. There were a few shingles not laying flat. Others still required trimming along the eves. And my gorgeous, freshly stained deck is filthy.

“Oh yes,” he said. “I’ll make sure it’s all done and returned to you as tidy as it was before, sir. Or tidier.”

“I’ll call you if I’m not satisfied,” I said. “That deck is brand new. It’s my pride and joy.”

He nodded his head in solemn vow.

“Don’t worry. We’ll make it right when we’re done. And if not, call Walker and we’ll be back.”

There was an unexpected advantage to hiring a contractor, Ms J. Remember that big, blue bin that sat in the driveway? I put all my old rubbish in it. All the old pieces of junk that have been here since I first moved in: An old push lawnmower, bent and rusty. Heavy as hell. Two heavy, (very heavy) wooden doors, twenty or thirty pieces of old fence board, and four wheelbarrow loads of bricks and rocks that had been piled in the garden behind the shed. I’m glad to be rid of it, and I know the garbage man wouldn’t take it.

 

I'm still waiting for a phone call from work, but it looks like I might be going to work in Oakville this afternoon. Or maybe not.

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