...which reminds me

I've been catching up on Andi's blog (bottom link on my blog list) and it's reminding me of too many eerie life similarities (except the pregnancy.  Thank god)...In addition to our apparent employability, we share having dudes on our roof .  When we moved in, our roof was a nice fire-engine red.  It is now the Nantucket red that goes well with expensive polos and Topsiders.  Which I'll find for you at Goodwill.  But this is not the color I want on my roof.  So we're having it painted.  Paint costs, it turns out, are determined by the square footage of the roof.  The square footage of the roof is something few people consider when purchasing a house.  This is a mistake.  Particularly if the roof is metal and painted.  Our dinky little under 2000 sq. feet house has a roof with the sq footage of a damned mall.  Six Gables, you see.  How quaint.  How architecturally interesting.  How costly to paint.  But anyway, I have a guy stomping around up there. It's like Santa is here, all day every day.  Only instead of bringing me presents, he's taking my money.  And he's telling me that the last person who patched our roof did a crappy job.  Which I could have guessed b/c the previous owners of this house were staunch devotees of the bubblegum-and-duct-tape school of home repair.  And before that, ancient people lived here (standard old people, not like Incas or something), and before that, it was a summer cottage.  And we all know how well the rental home gets treated.  "Rode hard and put up wet" is a colorful phrase that applies here.  We're forever discovering little tidbits, like the fire in the early 20s.  Like the creative wiring.  Like the sub-code plumbing.  Character!  We have to periodically have people over so they can tell us how great the house is.  Because we love it, we do....but damn it's like an abusive relationship.  Couldn't it just be haunted or something?  Oh wait, it is.  But at least soon, it will have a fire-engine red roof.  So we have that.