Early last week, as I was trying to take a nap, there were a couple of guys up on the roof of our apartment making a huge racket. As I could tell from the large pile of tarry debris behind the building, they were stripping the roof, no doubt to reroof the apartment. But I guess they never got to the part of the process where they put the new roof on.
Sunday morning about 11am, Nell and I noticed a stream of water had begun to stream down from the light fixture above our bed. A half dozen dark splotches had appeared on the ceiling and they all lengthened and met at the light fixture. This was actually a good thing because it meant we only had to use a single pot to collect the water.
We called maintenance and a guy showed up in an impressively short time. As to our problem, he suggested that we should probably move our bed. Then he gave me a blank form to sign, so that his employer would know he responded. There was nothing he could do, he said, because there was snow on the roof. He would put in a notice and some people would probably be out early in the week, he assured us. Suggesting again that we would probably want to move our bed, he left.
I was a little empathetic. After all, there was snow on the roof. And he was only one man. And it was a Sunday. Still, I know from experience that when there is snow somewhere that you don't want it, there is something you can do. I learned this from my brother years ago on a jeep trip to the mountains of Colorado. As we drove along the mountain path, we came across a large snow drift blocking the path. We couldn't drive around it because it was on a slope. Being the softer of the two of us, I assumed we would simply turn around and call it an early day. As I learned, there is a reason he had brought a snow shovel. A couple hours later, much to my amazement, the path was passable.
And so when the maintenance guy said there was nothing he could do, I knew that wasn't really the case. But it would have been a hell of a lot of work. So I don't really hold it against him.