The past couple of days we had some workers come and install a new roof. It has been non-stop, incessant pounding of hammers, popping of nail guns, and dragging of shingles- which sounded more like morbidly obese dead bodies being slid from peak to eave. Henry, of course, was able to nap through it all. I don't get it- the creaking of the front door will wake him up, but this cacophony did not. It is finally quiet again; the remains of our old tiled roof removed. As if it never even happened. Except we have a new roof in place. And I really miss the old one, from an aesthetic standpoint... but I won't miss the leaks. Especially the ones above Henry's crib.
2 comments:
Did you save your tiles? You can sell them.
I know people in the neighborhood who are looking.
It is hard to "save" them due to the face that they weigh alot and usually those dudes want to get the job done speedily so that they can move on to the next job. This means they throw them into a dumpster and they crack, rendering them useless. we did, however, save some for our next door neighbor, having them handed down person to person. poor tiles. sniffle, sniffle.
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