Posted in Writing Life

My Weekend

This morning I woke up to sunshine and thought, it must be a cold day because, in Toronto, winter sun comes with frigid air. Saturday morning we had spring rain, today we are smash back in winter again.

I am slow today, slow of mind and slow of movement. I would like to write, read, and sew, but I may do little of anything because the body and brain, at least mine, shuts down after a certain level of frenetic activity.

Saturday morning I expected to sleep in. I haven’t slept in for months what with one thing and another, and this was the day I was going to catch up on my sleep. Around 8:00 am I heard a steady tip tap tip tap sound. I thought it might be a mouse. I didn’t really to be honest, but I wanted to think it was a mouse, because as much as I dislike mice in the house, there is something I dislike even more, and I knew in my heart of hearts that it was the source of the sound.

A leak. We had a new roof put on just 2 years ago and ever since, when there’s a heavy rain with east winds, we have had a mysterious leak that appears in different places on the east side of the house. This one was big. The drip bloomed on the ceiling and when the bud was fat and heavy it dropped into the bucket A put on the floor.

I have called the roofer each time. This time I’d had enough and it was apparent in the message I left, which stated exactly my intentions on how I intended to proceed, for I got a call back and a promise (fulfilled!) to send someone over immediately. If necessary, he’d get the entire side of the roof reshingled, he said.

Thank God (yes the divine supreme) for old, skilled people of trades. The spry 64 year old who came to us was confident that he would see the problem from outside. You won’t, A said. Nobody has before. You need to look in the attic. I’ll see it outside, D said, roofers can see problems right away. About a half hour later, he was back inside the house on the 3rd floor. Leaping from our slightly short ladder, he got into the attic. (I want to be like him when I’m in my 60’s). And there he located the source of the problem. Outside again he took another look. Some shingles hadn’t been properly staggered. He put tar under them, and the tip tap, plip plop stopped.

That was just the start of my weekend. You get the idea. Everything ended well, but there were unexpected extra chores in an already filled weekend. At the end of it, I have a fixed roof, a daughter who had her first sleepover ever and a doozy it was (with 100’s of Girl Guides, Brownies and Sparks), a new used sewing machine, and applications from prospective tenants. Also one tired brain.



Lilian is the author of Web of Angels, a novel about a mom with DID (multiple personalities). She's also the author of the historical novels, The River Midnight and The Singing Fire, about secrets, friendship and motherhood in 19th century Poland and London.

2 thoughts on “My Weekend

  1. Having a roof that doesn’t leak – absolute bliss. Part of our roof leaked last summer, and we ended up having it all redone. My greatest relief was in getting my potato saucepan back – it was a good big one for catching drips, but I used that saucepan a lot! I always think sleepovers are very badly named, because I’ve never known children to sleep much at them….. glad your daughter had fun.

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