My girlfriend G and I have purchased a new house in a city neighborhood. We are spending the day making some repairs. I am painting something red. I go out in the back yard to clean a brush. Across the street I hear music and excited greetings. Mr T has arrived. I see the mohawked Mr T and a companion get out of a blue van. Apparently they live directly across the street from us. Just then a party of six or seven neighbors show up in our yard. Their spokeswoman informs me that we have the wrong color window glazing for the neighborhood. I assure her that ours can easily be stained to match theirs, but that first I must address the more serious problems of termites and a failing roof. They storm off. I have some difficulty getting back in the house with my hands full. G tires of holding the door for me and lets it slam while I stoop to retrieve dropped brushes. Finally inside, I explain angrily that the entire neighborhood has been offering their helpful suggestions. Later, I examine other roofs on the block. They all seem to be failing, principally because they consist of cedar shingles set on a steep pitch with an underlayment of dirt. Trees and grass grow from the roofs of our neighbors. I point this out to G as we begin work on our own roof.
Rowdy’s Dream Blog #47
A New House Across From Mr. T
2 min read
