roofer madness

i'm a little angry and on edge lately. i'm finding that grieving just happens when it feels like happening, which is fine and natural and part of how you move on in life. also finding that work is a good distraction, although it is frustrating that i'm the only one who can meet this deadline whose finished product, honestly, i am not fully dedicated to. i just don't care as much as i should and am more concerned with just being done with it.

so now, this morning. this morning. at 8am as i contemplated throwing off the down comforter, i wound up LEAPING out of bed so as to avoid being seen through the skylight by the heavy-booted yetis who had climbed onto the roof and clomped from the front end of the warehouse to this here back end. break-in? i thought, standing on the workspace side of my loft – which isn't visible through the skylight.

it's not a break-in, although IT MIGHT AS WELL BE with the scraping and shoveling and dragging of who knows what across the roof. i'm sure they're improving the watertightness of the place, which hey! it's about flippin time. but you know what? when bits of ceiling and rafter come crumbling into my home because these people are banging so dog damn hard it is as if they are drilling for oil eighteen inches above my head, then i just might have that nervous breakdown, thank you. i've taken measures to avoid it, like just now hurriedly tacking up a faded turquoise tapestry above the blue desk so that i don't completely lose my shiz when plaster begins falling onto my laptop and into my coffee. because then it will get personal. and then i might do something i'll regret, like climbing up that hall ladder wielding my two-foot batteryless maglite.