Not A Good Day At All

Yesterday was one of those days when one took a deep breath and put one's head down, hoping to survive it. And of course, twenty-four hours seemed to last forever!

It started early. I actually had a roofing job and was quite "excited" because it's back to toughing it out in the heat and doing something physical. One has to put oneself in a certain mindframe before getting on a roof; I liken it to "going to battle" mode because it's really a war against the heat and you.

Anyhow, before I left the house, I scalded my lips with hot tea. I didn't think much about it but it was significant in the sense that "heat" was the theme of the day. When I arrived at my job, the old grey truck started hissing as soon as I turned off the engine. This was my dependable Toyota grey truck, so that took me by surprise because the ancient thing, with its lopsided bed and duct-taped beauty, had given me the kind of mileage of which a Toyota owner would be proud.

Hot water shot out from under the truck. Steam. In other words, massive overheating. Oh dear. Not good.

RB was already on the roof and he just shook his head while I shrugged back. Nothing to do but to start setting up for work. We'd deal with this later.... I pulled out tools and buckets. I moved the hoses. I got ready the nailguns. Then I pulled the very heavy electrical cord connected to our compressor to the electrical pole for the juice. I stared at it. Our compressor ran on a 220 current and so we needed a special "bigger" plug-in, like the kind some of your bigger house appliances used. There was no such outlet, only for 110.

In other words, there was NO HEAT. NO JUICE. Not good.

I yelled the news up to RB on the roof and he groaned. By this time, the morning heat had risen up around a humid 85. Still, we continued setting up because even without electricity, there was stuff to do. We "marked" the roof and chalked it off. That meant a lot of walking round and round. I noticed parts of the roof had marks on the tar paper. I groaned. Usually meant one thing. The supplier's people hadn't put a nail under the bundles of shingles. Sure enough, the heat the previous day had caused the bundles to start sliding, andfollowed by the momentum of weight and kinetic energy, and tada! Thirty bundles on the ground in various spots. NOT GOOD. Thirty bundles meant a lot of going up and down the ladder for RB (well, you didn't expect me to do all that, didja ;-P?) In the pre-cellphone days, that would had meant RB turning into the Incredible Hulk (in a very bad mood) but this was 2008 and yes, we now own a cellphone, thank goodness.

At this point, RB pointed to another electrical pole down the road, next to another new house being built. Since I was already down on the ground talking to the supplier about the previous problem, I started heading toward it, still complaining and listening to excuses. It was a good walk, but I trotted down there in a hurry, because you know, battle mode and all that. I already had on my toolbelt, with all its accessories, so think me and another 25 lbs on me. When I got to the pole, my fingers were crossed, hoping that there was a 220 outlet. Yes! The good electricians had given us one on this pole. I yelled back in my roofer's voice, "There's juice!"

Back to the truck, all sweaty and slightly out of breath. Now would it start? Yes, it did. I eased it down the road and parked it close to the pole. And now...yeah, I had to pull out the really, really looooong hoses to connect the compressor to the hoses on the roof. 250 feet. That was about 50 lbs of rubber hose. I dragged the coils out and did the fireman's pull with one end, walking back towards the jobsite. It was a loooooong walk back, weighed down by the toolbelt and another 30 lbs, as I unraveled the hose. THEN I had to walk ALL the way back to the truck to connect hose and START the compressor. And, after that, WALK all the way back to the jobsite. Got that? ;-)

The morning had dragged out into a battle between me and getting started in the heat. I finally climbed the ladder, after everything was connected, ready to lay my first shingle. What do I hear? The Big Whoosh. That meant one of the hoses on the roof was leaking air. Sure enough. Heat had stretched and made a hole in one of them.

By this time, my teeshirt was already soaked. I sighed. Back down the ladder. All the way back to the old Toyota. Yes, I had an extra set of hose. Hoisted it. Back, back, back in the dust and heat to the job. Up, up, up the ladder. Unwound new hose. Reconnected. Whew. No whooshing sound.

If you were wondering where RB was all this time, he was setting up the heavier stuff on the roof, so yeah, he was fighting his own battle. But I'm sure he was having a lot of pleasure hearing my roofer persona back in screaming form. I was good. I only let out one "FUCK!" It was just too hot to get too frustrated.

So. I was ready. We had juice. We had heat. We had some shingles on the roof. Everything was set. Ready to start and make our first dollar.

At this point, I started seeing spots. Shaking my head didn't get rid of them. I couldn't focus. Holymoly. I suddenly heard my heartbeat roaring like a runaway train in my head. Funny how I didn't even notice before. So I leaned over a bundle, thinking, "Great. I overheated myself walking back and forth WITHOUT taking a drink." I was suddenly dying for a one. But you know. When you're on a steep roof and you suddenly WANT a drink but your head's swimming, you had better not move. The chances of a mistep and rolling down the incline were definitely not in your favor.

RB was on the other side of the roof and I heard him working his nailgun already. He was deaf and wouldn't hear me calling for him anyway. So I had to tough this out myself. The nausea slowly faded and the sight cleared, but it took a lot of deep breaths and concentration. I wasn't panicking, but I needed to give my heart a chance to stop racing. When the world was right again, I gingerly walked around...okay, I was fine. I cracked my knuckles. Set up my bundles of shingles. Squatted down to lay my first shingle for the day.

Bap bap! Bap bap! Bap bap! Went my nailgun. Ah. So goood.

And then it started to drizzle. Plop, plop, plop.

I made $1. Sigh. That was only the start of the day. The rest was just as painful and the day ended with an overheated dryer at 10pm. That was when I gave up and tried to sleep. Ha. Have you ever tried sleeping when your body refused to relax? Long, long night after a long, long day. Cost of day after making $1? You do the math.

What would today bring, I wonder? And yes, you may laugh at me ;-). The charge for entertaining ya is $1. It'll go to the truck repair bill.

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