Fri 3 Jul 2009
The Empress and the Shingles
Posted by Rana under Misc
[2] Comments
No, not the medical condition, the things on the roof.
Let me tell you people. I do not need an herbal appetite suppressant. I have Little Old Ladies to put me off my feed.
Yesterday I was in a Big Box Office Supply Store looking for something R. wanted when the phone rang. The screen flashed “Empress,” and I debated about taking the call, but since the last time I heard from her, her daughter was sprawled out on the garage floor, I picked up.
Okay, backtrack two weeks. I see one of those shingle display boards propped up on the Empress’ front porch and had a frisson of foresight. I knew what was coming. Some out of work roofer knocked on her door and informed her that the shingles were shot and she should talk to her insurance adjustor.
I’m sorry, did I hear someone say, “Scam?” You in the back there? See the man at the door about your prize.
Well, sure enough, she calls the adjustor who is a personal friend and of course he tells her the roof is shot and that he’s going to get her a “free” roof and the rest of us should do the same.
I’m sorry, did I hear someone say, “No such thing as a free roof?” Congratulations. See the man at the door about your prize.
She was adamant that I call the insurance company to get my free roof. There are a few factors here that are relevant to my situation that she’s not taking into account, chief on the list being the fact that I raised the deductible on the homeowner’s insurance so we could qualify for the refinance last October. Follow that with, I’m on half wages and then add a dollop of, “No benefit for normal wear and tear.”
As I calculate these factors — and the fact that due to the noise, I’d have to check into a hotel with R. and board the cats at the clinic for the duration — I’m figuring my “free” roof would cost about $5,000.
People, if I get $5,000, the first check is going to the vet clinic.
We’ve had major storms this spring, but the hail has been no bigger than a pea and lasted less than 5 minutes. No shingles have blown off and there are no leaks in the house. A little curling on the edge of some shingles, yes, but nothing significant.
As I explained to her, we are in the middle of the worst recession since 1929 with unemployment reaching 10%. People are doing without health care for their children for Christ’s sake. We can take a gamble on the freaking roof, because there is no room in the budget for preventative house maintenance at that level with our deductible.
And what did the old bat say to me, “Well, of course, it is your decision . . .”
Careful, don’t get under that dripping sarcasm laced with disapproval. It’ll eat a hole in your shirt.
Consequently, I have been unbelievably annoyed for the intervening 18 hours or so. Missy J. recommended certain direct, two-word phraseology starting with eff and ending with off, but my annoyance is greater than that. I think it’s hard enough these days to make the right choices about expenditures without having to endure the judgement of the neighbors.
What I really want to say is, “You’re a little old lady who just caved to a hungry roofer’s scare tactics and the insurance adjustor, who is your personal friend, caved to the fact that you’re an 88-year-old elderly hobbit and is prepared to write you a check rather than deal with you.”
I predict, that of the six households in this complex, at least two will follow suit, cave, and pop for a new roof. (Teach put a new roof on her place before she sold it to get a higher asking price.) And you know what I’m going to get out of this? Noise waking R. up at the crack of dawn, traffic blocking the driveway for days on end, and nails in my goddamn tires. But a free roof? Oh no, baby, that’s not happening and it’s not going to happen for her either — “unexpected” fees and costs, happen Mrs. E. — but what do I know?
As always in these situations, I’m taken back to the poem Papa kept taped to his desk:
I’m not allowed to run the train,
The whistle I can’t blow.
I’m not allowed to say how far,
The railroad cars can go.
I’m not allowed to pick up steam,
Or even clang the bell.
But let it jump the goddamn track,
Then see who catches hell.













