All I Want for Christmas...

...is a roof that doesn't leak!

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. Since writing that first sentence I have spent half an hour in the dripping cold because my wish was not granted. At least not yet. Of course, Christmas is still twenty-three hours and forty-three minutes away as I type, so I can't complain too much for just a LITTLE bit longer.

But seriously folks, this leaking business has been pretty extreme over the past couple days. It started in the addition, where we had to cut a hole in the ceiling to let out the rivulets freely flowing through the insulation over our heads. ("We" are my dad.) There was a pretty bad ice dam on the rook, so "we" shoveled it off and I went to town in treacherous weather to get us some Potassium Chloride (or something like that, a.k.a. ice melting granules) from Aubuchon Hardware. Daddy and I (but mostly Daddy) have sprinkled the stuff on the gutters by the addition several times, and most of the leaking there is taken care of. Just in time for tonight....

As those of you in New Hampshire already know, it's relatively warm and quite rainy this evening in the Granite State. While this is good for our skating prospects (which excites me to no end), it is only the silver lining to a very, very dark cloud.

This seemingly harmless, gentle drizzle combined with the rising temperatures have sent gallons of water sloshing down our various roofs. With our gutters full of ice, we somehow ended up with leaks in our basement and laundry room. More shoveling and sprinkling of chemicals (by "us," of course) ensued.

Lest you think I was lazy, a certain influential member of my family would not allow me - or anyone else in the family except my dad, for that matter - onto the roof. I mostly shoveled the deck, found flashlights and chemicals, and emptied buckets.

Right now I don't know of any more leaking going on, thank God, but you can feel sorry for us all the same.

O! now you weep, and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity; these are gracious drops.
Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold
Our [household]'s vesture wounded?

Glad to hear it.

Quotes from Julius Caesar