Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Thieves
Well, it's storm time again, and my roof is unfinished and unshingled. The sheetrock crew we hired has an articulate sppkesman, but his crew gives new meaning to ineptitude. We nicknamed them Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. They are always together, always sitting down when I pull up into the driveway. One is tall and skinny, the other short and fat, with a little short red mustache. Their job? to throw hammers at the walls and ceiling to get the sheetrock down. Their other job? sifting through our belongings to take what they want--so far toaster, carseat, toys, retired infant bedding, etc. I almost don't care. and I have a new passtime. Passing by the house at odd hours to take pictures of their progress. What I'm really doing is spying on them and trying to get their faces in the frame, just in case. Yesteday they left a ton of sheetrock outside and it got rained on. Needless to say, I don't want that in my house.
If anybody is sending me mail, you should know that I am not getting mail--not at the house address, not at the P. O. Box. I don't know what is up with that, and I am hurting for the first of what will be numerous insurance checks.
I'm about to go hunker down--we're on the rain side of this new storm, and tropical storm winds here for the next day or so. I am really hoping my neighbors' trees stay on their sde of the fence. I need a break from the home fiasco chaos.
As for my brother Jay, you know things are bad for him when his good news is that his house only took 8.5 feet of water, not the twelve feet we thought. At night we all sit together watching the news, drinking, figurng what few things may have floated to the ceiling and survived the three weeks of water, hoping that maybe some of the Star Wars toys made it, or maybe one of the eight guitars he left behind.