Well, when it rained, it poured and so did the known and unknown pore in the ceiling. The pots, pains and plastic recycling bags came out. The roofer gave up and told us to hire a carpenter. In spite of last weeks carpentry bill from the previous downpour, we are back to the beginning.
We are on three voicemail messages to the carpenter, two completed calls, two disconnects from poor reception, no date to repair, and counting.
I think that Sting should have written a song entitled, "how to seal an imploding roof." It seems more evasive and inevitable, then defusing a nuclear bomb.
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