Well the roof is leaking again. I know it sounds like a common gripe, but this roof thing is an exceptionally painful part of my life.
During my divorce, it started with a simple leak around a drain that I hired my brother, the roofer, to fix. Just as soon as the leaky drain was repaired, the whole thing began to go to shit in stages with each storm. My brother explained it the same way an auto mechanic excuses a repair that actually makes your car worse: The problem was hidden and larger than it first appeared and the “fix” that you paid for needed to be done anyway. But now it will take real money for the issue to be resolved.
For the next year and a half, each repair would get more involved, each check would get bigger, and the amount of water that came in as time went on also increased. During this EPIC year and half of no one being able to figure out where and how the water was coming in, I was going through my divorce. So any major improvements I would invest in the house would cost me (alone) plenty, and get carved up in half when the equity of the house was tallied up for my ex to walk away with.
Further complicating the nightmare, my father was dying, my lawyer was suing me, and one of my brother’s workers stole a laptop from my home. (Of course, not according to my brother.)
When my brother’s wife tragically died mid project, he was unable to work for a while as he grieved and fell off the wagon. We were all hitting bottom—including my kids.
This period coincided with some of the worst parenting my children have been exposed to. I had to dump buckets of water into toilets every few hours when it rained. That meant not leaving the house for extended periods, no vacations nor getting a good nights sleep. Something I desperately needed as I was drinking too much. And the kids were routinely awaken during the night to help me as I was losing it—not table to see the buckets in the dark because the electricity had to be turned off in those rooms and 12 buckets were overflowing all at the same time because the water was coming in faster today than it was yesterday. This marked the first time my kids saw me balling my eyes and using the F word. I remember cursing at an exhausted Liam for not pointing the flashlight in the right direction a lot. He was 7 years old then. Not cool.
My brother plugged on, trying one thing, then another. Eventually I began to feel confident enough to repair the cosmetic damage to the interior as well. When the roof and cosmetic repairs were about 85% finished, my brother simply stopped returning my texts. So I befriended another contractor who wouldn’t give up on me, nor charge me what he should. I know he was motivated by a crush (more on that later), but I was too desperate not to take advantage of his kindness. He was no roofer, but he was committed to making our roof sound again, so he did. And I will always be grateful.
During that horrible year and a half, my life became so ridiculous that I had to start laughing every time something terrible happened. There was just no where else to go. My mother thought I was flipping my lid. But it was the only type of coping method that those dancing with insanity can turn to.
So today when I see water spots on my ceiling beginning to form, it most definitely sucks. But my mind doesn’t go directly into panic zone. I know I am capable of getting through it somehow.
Calling the contractors now and pouring myself a stiff drink.