Roof this.

We installed a ridge vent in our roof the other day.

Because, blah blah blah, air flow, yadda yadda yadda, ventilation efficiency...

It's that thing at the top.
Basically we don't want our attic to double as a sauna.

Anyway, the "why" doesn't matter. What is significant, is that before this little adventure I probably gave as much thought to roofing as I do to why Bill Murray doesn't get his fair share of marshmallow slime in Ghostbusters.

Although now that I think about it...
Dan Aykroyd and Ernie Hudson look like they rolled around in a middle school prank's worth of shaving cream.
Yet Bill Murray barely gets a dollop?
What the hell?!

At any rate, roofs and roofing in general have now gone from being an unknown quantity to one of my top five fears.

Mainly because of this:

Wow.
There's really nothing between me and death right now, huh?

I've never considered myself as being afraid of heights. I mean, I love roller coasters, I've stood on the glass floor at Toronto's CN Tower without fear, and I have absolutely no qualms about clambering up ladders. But there's just something about scrambling over a roof that terrifies me.

Of course I didn't realize this until I was actually on said roof.

T: "Today would be a good day to install that ridge vent."
B: "Okay, I'll help you!"

..... ..... .....

And this is what reckless confidence gets you:

Oh my God.
I am going to die.

Of course, having done this many times before, Troy is climbing all over like a damn spider monkey.

Weeee!

So while he's doing his "look-Ma-no-hands" bullshit, I'm hunched over like Igor with a pry bar in one hand while the other claws desperately at the asphalt shingles.

However, during this time of pants shitting terror I did learn some valuable lessons.

- Thank goodness for crab soccer.

Remember this?

The lame offspring of soccer and limbo.

You know, that "wacky" game you'd play in gym class that usually resulted in severely scraped knuckles and finally ended when someone got kicked in the face.

Smell my foot!

Well, if it wasn't for crab soccer teaching me the intricacies of walking backwards on my hands and feet, someone probably would have had to call the fire department.
Going up the slope of a roof is one thing, it's getting back down without gravity making you it's bitch; that's tricky...

Pictured: Gravity's bitches.

- Sawdust is slippery.

 There's an old trick that involves using sawdust on snow paths to increase traction. Unfortunately, the same does not apply for asphalt roofs.

Sawdust sucks when you're thirty feet in the air.

Asphalt shingles are covered in granules. And when sawdust and shingle granules combine, it makes for an unholy union of too much loose surface area.
In other words, the chances of falling to your death increase significantly.

This guy knows what I'm talking about.

Why did we even have sawdust on the roof? Well, part of installing a ridge vent involves making a gap in the apex of the roof so air can escape.
So, in our case, part of the roof had to be cut out to provide for the vent.

Mind the gap.

Here's Troy being a badass with a circular saw and just daring sawdust to fuck up his afternoon.

I believe the term is "bear".

- Stubbornness > Fear

I have a "healthy fear" of a lot of things. Death, dismemberment, spiders, needles, lack of internet connectivity...

Router panic!

And now scaling roofs has been added to the list.

In the days following the ridge vent episode, I found myself evaluating the slope of neighborhood roofs and imagining climbing them. Occasionally experiencing fits of anxiety when the slant was too steep.

Fucking terrifying.

 And although my muscles now ache with the nervous tension of Igor climbing/crab sliding/pants soiling dread...

Me.
Surrounded by sawdust and certain death.

I'd do it again.

If only because I'm just too damn stubborn to admit that a roof can defeat me.

But then again...

Now Hiring: Drawbridge Architects

There are moments in life when the unexpected happens...

Taking a Lewis Carroll inspired acid trip, for instance.

  ...and how we choose to respond to those situations is a good indication of who we are as individuals.

Like when a small landscaping project turns into a severe plumbing emergency.
 

You know, just for an example

Over time, my weekends have morphed from consisting solely of wacky antics, group high fives, and hangovers to house work, and ogling the Home Depot gardening section.
 

I have never been so turned on by flora.
Seriously.

Which is why, instead of hiding from the light, I was out in the yard on a Saturday morning, armed with an ax and a pair of loppers, destroying what remained of a massive hedge of dead azalea bushes, when I heard Troy's yell.

Since Troy's not generally one to make noises of distress, I naturally assumed he was doing battle with a gator from the marsh across the street.

Yes, I'm aware this is actually a crocodile.

Approaching cautiously with my ax, I was met with a very different spectacle.

Mon Dieu!

A standalone spigot in the middle of the front yard had been previously bent down into the ground by a work crew, and it did not take kindly to Troy's attempts of bending it back upright.

Hello. I'm here to cause panic.
*SNAP!*

And a geyser was born.

I wish I could say I remained stoic in the face of impending disaster.

But no.

"Shit. Shit. Shit! What do we do?!"

"DIG! We need to contain the water!"

For the record, it is truly impressive how quickly people can work under stress. In less than two minutes we were well on our way to creating a fairly impressive koi pond.

Sans koi, of course.

And aren't water features just all the rage?

Granted I'm exaggerating the size of our plumbing emergency.

Slightly. 

But a broken, gushing pipe is not something that I was prepared to deal with.

So if you're ever faced with a similar pipe burst and need to immediately turn off your water, don't freak out like I did. Instead find the meter in your yard conveniently labeled "Water".

To be fair, it's almost idiot proof.

Generally located about ten feet away from the road, the water meter will also sometimes be painted blue or have a blue marker on it.
Once located, use your terror fueled adrenaline to pry off the lid. You'll then see a small knob that controls the flow. 

 If you remember, it's also a good idea to turn on the faucets in the house before turning off the water. This will help prevent a buildup of air in the waterline and keep your indoor faucets from sputtering.

Now, to shut off the water. You may be lucky and have a fancy-dancy water key.

High-tech.

 Just put the U-shaped end of the key over the knob-like valve and turn.

Of course, a pair of pliers and the aforementioned panic induced adrenaline is equally effective. 

 This is what it should look like when turned off.

 And then when it's on.

Congratulations! You've just averted disaster!

"And I took a hearty dump this morning."

Our particular scenario involved an immediate and significant amount of digging around the broken pipe to keep the gurgle somewhat contained. Followed by shutting off the water, and then digging a twelve foot trench.

WWI soldiers not included.

Because that's how long the snapped pipe extended until it connected with the main city line.

Blech.

On a more positive note, Troy is now twelve feet closer to achieving his childhood dream of having a moat.

And so, we are currently accepting applications from drawbridge architects.

What do you want? Shit's old.

So, we recently bought an old house.

Like, really old.
As in; Survived-The-Depression-And-Both-World-Wars old, Older-Than-Your-Grandparents old, or, Old-Before-Old-Was-A-Thing old 

By the way, ever notice that when the same word is repeated over and over it kind of loses it's meaning?
No? Well, nevermind then.

Anyway, specifically, it's Built-In-1900 old.

It was a simpler time. A time when people could wear hats and look fabulous, instead of pretentious.
And were also more racist....

Anyway, besides the obvious oddities, like archaic wiring and newspapers for insulation, there's a lot of other little nuances and unexpected drawbacks to the otherwise really sweet features of an older home.
Such as...

- High ceilings.

Most people dig tall ceilings because they make a room feel larger, which is nice since humans generally aren't den creatures.

Unless you have a hobbit ancestry.

But if you have high ceilings, I promise there will come a day when you'll be startled by the presence of an escapee from Spider Island.

By all rights, this is a code-red emergency situation.
On another note, someone could make a fortune by operating a Squash-A-Bug Hotline...

Usually found lurking in the back right corner of the ceiling, mocking both you and gravity, spiders and various other insects are content to lounge, doing gross, buggy things. No doubt feeling safe with the knowledge that those stupid fleshy humans can neither reach that high, nor own an eight foot ladder.

But not to be outdone, I later smooshed the little bastard with a catapulted shoe, and left the corpse as a warning for the others.

And now I just pray that my aim is always that good.

- Claw Foot Tubs

I think we can all agree that those claw foot tubs look awesome.

And, oddly enough, make me want to have a soak with a cigar in one hand and a martini in the other.

But when you're taking a shower in one, you quickly realize that there is absolutely nothing stable to hang onto and less than a square foot of flat tub bottom to stand on.

Hey, remember that awkward stretch you did in gym class? Where you had to stand on one foot while stretching your other leg behind you?
Although, it's more likely that you hopped around like an idiot instead of actually stretching anything...

Look at this smug asshole with his stupid balance and low center of gravity.

That's basically what it's like to take a shower in a claw foot tub.
 
And things get especially dicey when trying to wash your hair after a few wobbly pops.

Shower beers shift from being relaxing to insanely difficult when there's no walls to lean against.

I also learned it's best to never close your eyes. Vertigo is nobody's friend, especially in a claw foot tub.

...and that was the second time I destroyed the shower rod...

- "Better Get Skinny" Bathroom

Modern bathrooms are fairly spacious and accommodating. But back in the day, especially in rural areas, indoor plumbing was more of an afterthought. People just stuck a toilet in wherever they could find room. Hence the Harry Potter-esque bathroom-under-the-stairs.

Well, if the loo fits...

Guess I'll be leaving those doughnut burgers alone if I want to continue to pee indoors....

Ever just want to see how slow your blood can flow?

There's also the possibility that...


- In a house this old, someone has probably died in it... and is now a pissed-off ghost.

Go ahead and laugh. "Oh haha, what a silly girl thing to say. Look at you, all afraid of ghosts."

Except my neighborhood looks like this:

Now picture it at night.
Not so silly anymore is it?

If Hollywood has taught me anything, it's that there is totally a voodoo priestess hanging out in those woods doing some spooky stuff.

Anyway, there are no signs of an active haunting... yet. But we also haven't quite gotten into the more nitty gritty aspects of home renovation either. God forbid we start pulling up floorboards, find a rusted key that fits a dusty chest behind a secret door and accidentally open a ghostbuster "containment unit".

No good can come of this.

Somehow I don't think Bill Murray or Dan Aykroyd would be up to the challenge anymore, and I'll be damned if I ask the jagoffs from SyFy's Ghost Hunters to come and clean up the ectoplasm.

"Do you sense something?"
"Yes. Your breakfast burrito."

But if it turns out that the sellers disclosure's "Check yes for graves and mine shafts" really is some  creepy foreshadowing for spectral visits, we've still got an ace in the hole.

You have to appreciate a guy who can deliver a demon smack-down.

Because fortunately, Troy was raised Catholic. And say what you will about Catholicism, but those folks have a ritualistic solution for everything. 

 We will make you choke on that pea-soup, bitch. 

One exorcism and a fresh coat of paint later, you'd never know the place was possessed.

In all actuality though, I am super stoked about this house. Sure, it's old and not in the best shape.
But it's mine, and the possibilities are literally endless.

And seriously... look at that porch!

The 7 Stages of Packing

Moving sucks. Hard.

Sure you might be moving to a new and exciting place, but you're also going to be knee deep in that awkward in-between time that comes with transporting all your useless crap to a new location.

By the way, the rental truck's insurance does not cover your possessions...

And if moving is the equivalent of wading through raw sewage, then packing up is the hole in the seam of your boots.

Oh gross, what is in my socks?!
Ew, ew, ew. Oh god, it's everywhere!

Ah packing. It's a dirty, messy, stressful job, and also something of an emotional journey, filled with it's own pitfalls and obstacles. Such as...

1. Denial

"Well, I live in a pretty tiny apartment, it's not like we've got a ton of stuff. Packing up shouldn't take that long." 

Just give me thirty minutes. Max.

 But then reality sets in, followed by...

2. Pain and Guilt

Four hours later.

Where did I put the damn packing tape?

"How in the hell did I accumulate so much shit?! This is insane.
Whew! I need a rest, my back is killing me. Maybe I'll take a quick internet break...."

Six hours later.

facebookpinterestyoutubeetsycatstumblrstumbleuponblogspuppiesebaypetfinderamazon....
TO INFINITY!

"Hahaha! Look at that cat, he's a silly little guy...

Time. Suck.

Oh my god, how is it that late already? Damn you internet! If only I had unplugged the stupid computer first I could have been more productive..."

Go back to work

3. Anger

That moment when you seriously consider just torching everything.

Arson: The maniac's reset button.

"You know what, screw this noise. I'm sick of bubble wrapping these damn glasses. From now on we're doing things Darwin style. Everything gets chucked in a box, and if it breaks, oh well.
Survival of the fittest, bitches."

I am not the fittest...

Then comes...

4. Bargaining

"Okay, if I fill one more box then I'll internet for fifteen minutes. Just need to make sure to set a timer..."

Feed me.

Yet once I tear myself away from the computer screen to look around the room, I slowly slide into...

5. Depression

Two hours later

"Shit! I didn't hear the alarm. Stupid phone must have been on vibrate. Dammit! This is never going to get done. I should just quit now and try to get an early start tomorrow..."

Someone play me some sad walking away music.

6. Reconstruction and Working through

"Okay, okay. Just need to focus on one thing at a time. I've done this before, it's not a big deal..."

I am getting so drunk when this is over...

But finally you reach...

7. Acceptance/Scary Productivity

"That's it! The computer is getting packed now. This whole place is getting sealed and stacked."

Whoops! Sorry pup, didn't see you there...

And off we go into the sunset...

Ah moving. A fresh start! A new journey! A seriously royal pain in the ass...