Monday, October 2, 2006

It's Not Personal, It's Business

We were warned. We bought a house with three skylights. The inspector told us to just expect that someday - maybe sooner, maybe later - water would leak through them. They were minimum grade skylights, he said, and it was just a matter of time.

So when the first heavy rainstorm hit last June, we watched the skylights like hawks, and were thoroughly unprepared for the water to come streaming in. From the windows.

From the windows? He never mentioned anything about windows! Yet here we are, proud owners of a house which has crying fits in three windows whenever a passing child pees, but whose skylights are holding better than the Hoover Dam.

And my husband is taking this personally. In our old house, is chosen war was with a toilet. In this house, it's man against window.

He's made numerous trips to Lowe's, purchased all sorts of colorful foams, and taken possession of the neighbor's long ladder, a ladder so long I've made him promise to never climb it when no one else is home.

First, he made me his helper. This did not work well. For one, I'm afraid of heights. On behalf of everybody. So I can't really stand on the ground watching someone, particularly someone I care about, teeter up a questionable ladder to his certain peril.

Also, the windows which leak are most unhelpfully located on that side of the house. You know that side...the one which no one ever visits except perhaps to point the air conditioning repair man in the right direction. There were feet of dead leaves which had gone condo to several species of bugs. I do not do bugs. So I complained the entire time my husband was teetering in the sky applying bright yellow foam to our blue house.

He promises he's going to paint it.

"As soon as I know I have enough," he says. Which is to say, as soon as the windows stop leaking. Which means we'll probably have an entire new wing made of this foamy stuff before it gets painted blue.

But I don't want to be divorced, so you didn't hear that from me.

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