We’d called the roofer anyway, because the roof is still under warranty, and we’d seen a tad bit of discoloration in the ceiling. Today, our original buyers backed out of the deal (not for that reason) but the new ones will be wanting to see the house in a couple of days. So, naturally, we are suddenly in the midst of torrential downpours. The streets are flooded. You can see only the top of the gazebo in Brookside park. Even dry basements are getting damp. And, of course, some of this water has managed to find its way through tiny cracks in the seams on the flat roof, and is now dripping happily onto black plastic garbage bags in the back bedroom. *sigh* We planned on getting a touch-up, as I said, but now we need to give the roofer no end of grief until he comes and really REALLY fixes the damn thing. We had hoped to position the roof repair as a magnanimous gesture, rather than a necessary piece of labor. Poopy house.
I do love this house, honest, and I love the neighborhood, and I’m going to miss being here, and miss all my friends, but dammit, what a pain that it pulls these kinds of shenanigans when I’m stressed out already.