. . . is that sometimes it decides to get wonky on you when
you decide to leave it to itself.
Paradise, it would seem, requires maintenance.
And at times, repair.
Keith and I left The Monkey in the care of the grandparents
this past weekend and headed west, to the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Keith was shooting a middle school mock UN conference
held at the YMCA Blue Ridge Assembly.
(On a side note, when then the hell did middle school girls get so scary?
I couldn't tell if I was at a YMCA assembly or a Raleigh nightclub.)
I shot second camera and did a dutiful job of holding reflectors.
It was a nice time away from paradise, I must say.
Then we came home to the rain.
And it poured.
Rain in the dining room,
rain from four leaks in the ceiling.
A dining room awash in water.
And herein we deal with the first of what I'm sure will be many foreclosure issues.
This is the ceiling of my dining room, which used to be a covered porch
before it was closed in with glass windows. We knew there were going to
be issues here, surely. I mean, LOOK at it!
But we felt (feel) the house to be worth it.
As a customer reminded me,
it's better to dance in the rain rather than to avoid the storm altogether.
A great house comes with great problems, I suppose.
Great meaning, large, in this instance.
And I find myself maybe not DANCING in the rain, per se,
but I certainly am splashing around in it.
As are the dogs.
And the boy.
Bins are in place to catch the rain water.
The dining room table is shoved against a far wall and fans are on.
So we wait for word on the repair estimate and the cause of the problem itself.
Although the wood above us is clearly in terrible condition, the roof
is only a few years old. Knowing nothing of roofing, I still know that the
water has to get past the shingles and flashing in order to be able to get to
the ceiling above me and the floor at my feet.
While I am, of course, concerned about the cost and the potential enormity of this issue,
I'm reminded constantly that all things are relative.
And it can always, always, be worse.
I love this roof over my head, leaky as it may be in places.
I love those who splash through the water that rains down
and this adventure we've undertaken together- for better or worse.
Though trouble it may have,
a paradise it still is.
Perspective, as ever, is key . . .
I'll just do some light rearranging--
I'm pretty sure the houseplants need watering anyway.