When Edith was a few weeks old (so late March), my dad and I were sitting on the couch watching Crazy Rich Asians while she slept on me when a hail ball the size of an apple suddenly smashed through the skylight cover, followed by ten minutes of a drubbing that immediately announced itself as a full roof replacement. Having just come through a traumatic delivery, two weeks with my newborn in the NICU, and now figuring out having a baby at home, I was of course beyond delighted at this new turn of events. One likes to stay busy.
My dad was on the phone to the roofers before the storm even stopped, but given the fact that every single roof in my entire neighborhood had to be replaced and the supplies were all on backorder, the work was only just done today.
I had been dreading it for some time, because I felt that Edith would not nap, but 12 hours into this, I can happily share that she has been napping just fine and is now on her first sleep leg of the evening. Otherwise, she had an exceedingly pleasant day as far as I can tell, as she always does. My mother also (who is famous for her sleeping abilities and is a lifelong night owl) had no trouble keeping to her usual routine.
So when it came to it, the only person who was driven stark raving mad by a day of roof work was me. I am about to lose my ever-loving mind. It’s just been endless, and my shoulders are all knotted up and cramped and I really don’t see how they are going to finish this in the next few hours. All I want is silence.
I have never had my roof replaced before, but it makes an absolutely shocking mess. When I look out of any window, we are adrift on a solid sea of roofing detritus as well as gatorade and water bottles, beer cans, and cigarette butts, all of it knee-high in depth. It’s like a parade blew over inside a tornado. Mom had to leave the house during their lunch break and she said that there were men lying prostrate all over the front yard surrounded by the above described garbage, snoozing in the sun or playing with their boots.
I know at some point, the pounding will stop and I will sleep as much as Edith ever lets me, and then theoretically, I will wake up to silence, the yard cleared of their presence as if this had all been a dream, but at this point, it’s hard to believe that. I feel that this will go on forever, and it’s just how we live now.