Up on the Roof

Yesterday, I came home to the most wonderful sight in the world.

ROOFERS!!

There's no way non-Floridians can understand the sheer ecstasy of real, live, roofers with real, live power tools. I'm sure you all know about the hurricanes (God knows we do; we were told we were going to DIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE immediately for six weeks straight last summer). What you may not know about is the post-hurricane trauma most of us have been suffering ever since.

About three months ago, I heard a story of a woman who, flying into Orlando International Airport, looked down and said to her seatmate, "Look at all the pretty blue roofs down there."

"Those are tarps," was the reply.

Blue tarps are Central Florida's Mark of Zorro (or Charley, or Frances, or Jeanne). Some of us even decorated our holiday gingerbread houses with blue raspberry Fruit Roll-Up tarps, just to be sarcastic. But you can't really understand the utter inconvenience of things like FEMA trailer housing until you've spent six months sleeping in every bed in the house but your own, or finally giving in and putting the mattress and box spring on the floor, despite the gaping hole in the ceiling and the constant flap-flap of the plastic DH has screwed into the drywall so it won't snow insulation.

I am SO ready to have my bed back. Which is why I'm SO ecstatic to have roofers on my house.

Today, they make the hole worse as they cut out the two busted trusses and start over. But hey, if it means a real bed by this weekend, I'll be their insulation-picking do girl as long as they need me.

A real bed! I could just DIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!