Zodi’s Blog

The Four Roofers of the Apocalypse.

I looked, and there before me was a white horse.

 

The first roofer came swooping down from another village in a white range rover. The second on a red Suzuki motorcycle, and the other two caught rides from somewhere. No, this isn’t another reality show idea. Unfortunately, it’s been my life over the past week.

See, since last Monday they’ve been working on my elderly Spanish neighbor’s roof.

 

This is nothing like you would ever witness in the states. These houses were erected Fred Flintstone style six hundred years ago. They literally built them with large stones and mud. To do the roof back then they just added large, not necessarily straight, wooden logs. On the top of which they layered long thin pieces of slate, followed lastly by dirt on the very top. Then over the years they either added beautiful Spanish tile or ugly asbestos corrugated roofing material. Guess which one my neighbor used, which is now being torn down and ripped up. Yea!

 

 When they redo a roof they literally rip the top off of a house. Therefore they rented a big aluminum dumpster, which was strategically placed right outside my bedroom window. All that’s left is to start the chainsaw’s and let er rip.

 

 I don’t know how well you can imagine what 40lb slate rocks falling three stories into an empty aluminum container might sound like, but I would say something akin to a nuclear bomb being dropped in the Grand Canyon. This started about 6:00 am on a Monday morning with no warning. I think I had about 2 heart attacks and a stroke while pissing myself at the same time. I honestly thought that a cataclysmic event had triggered the apocalypse.

 

Now that the initial excitement of a new job has worn off, the roofers have slowed the pace to one slate slab every three or four minutes. I have a nine pound miniature dachshund who will probably be in therapy for years. I think he’s still in mild shock. He does come out of his shock long enough to first scream a high pitched tirade, followed by an armor piercing howl (as only dachshund’s are capable) each and every time another slab hits the dumpster.

 

Don’t forget though that this is Spain, so after every 20 minutes of work they take a 30 minute cigarette/coffee/brandy break. Said break is usually just taken on the roof.  My neighbor’s roof just happens to be level with my terrace, which in Spain is usually the only outside space that you have. I may have forgotten to mention that our only bathroom is built onto our terrace. Kind of cool sometimes, this is not one of those times.

 

I can’t describe how wonderful it is to wake up to Armageddon then have to practically walk by four drinking, smoking roofers perched ten feet away, all to take your morning piss. Good times.

 

Every time we have to open the back door, which is often, two or three inches of asbestos laced, 600 year old dirt gets free roam of our home. I can at least console myself with the knowledge that this will all be over in four or five short months. Or maybe a year.

 

And the fourth roofer rode in with a pale horse. Its rider was named death, and Hades was following close behind him.

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April 26, 2009 - Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , ,

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