It's down that's no fun. More specifically, falling. I've done it on several occasions. I did not care for it. So while working on the roof of the coop didn't bother me, the act of getting up there, and more importantly, STAYING up there was a huge deal. It absolutely, positively could NOT be done on a windy day. The day had to be perfect. The first day up, we decided to tackle the lower roof first, as it is not only smaller, but has a more gentle pitch.
I was using these great dimensional shingles I picked up at the Habitat Store for only $4 a bundle, instead of $45 a bundle new. They are great! OC I didn't buy enough, and had to make another trip, but they had plenty. Armed with a ladder, a good 20oz hammer, these cool roofing nails that had a metal ring instead of plastic, and a good wingman.....see I'm even stalling going back up on that ladder describing it to you. OK, UP I went. Phew not so bad. The first couple of rows could be done from the ladder, but remember this coop is built on a hill, so one side of the ladder had to be propped up 4 inches. ("propped up" = we made a level, stable plywood platform, nothing wibbly-wobbly ~Doc) Oh joy. But there was simply no escaping it. It was time to get ON the roof.
This is where I know the Universe has a sense of humor. I no sooner get ON the roof and the winds pick up. And not just a little, but now gusting to over 35mph. And the sun, as weak as it is, is now heating the lower shingles, burning my knees through my jeans. An hour later and it is time for lunch and the shingles are done. After lunch I climb back up on to the lower roof, emboldened by my earlier success, and put up the exterior trim and metal hardware cloth on the upper window. Then it was time for IT.
The back roof. The super scary, super angled, super high, super slippery, back roof. What was I thinking?! Who built this abomination to nature?! Who?! Oh wait... UGH.
Again I was able to manage the first two rows from the propped up ladder. I kept asking Doc over and over again if he had a hold of the ladder. I knew he did. Where was he going to go? Well, ok, he COULD have gone somewhere. I bet he wished he HAD been somewhere, but he was there, holding tightly. He wasn't going to let that ladder go. I knew that. He knew that. But my brain wasn't so sure that gravity has received that memo. SO I kept asking anyway.
Once I was on the ladder it was even more apparent HOW steep this roof was. The tar paper, or roofing felt, wasn't making it any easier. I swear it was coated in Teflon. I made a command decision. It had to come off. I ripped great sheets of it, tossing it to the ground. I kept repeating to myself, " I will not fall. I can do this." Then about half way up the roof...I ran out of shingles. AHHHHH!
Which meant not only the dreaded trip to town, but that I was going to have to go up on that roof, AGAIN! You'd think the emboldened thing would kick in again. Apparently, I reached my quota for that and it was almost as hard to get up on the back roof the second time. But I did. I would nail full shingles down as Doc would cut me partials. And the winds started to howl again. By lunch time on the second day, the roof was done.
My wrists felt like maracas, my knees burned and bruised to being bloody, but my coop had a roof. A 30 year roof, maybe a few years less by the lack of tar paper underlayment. But I don't think the girls will care.
No comments:
Post a Comment