6:02 AM
Wednesday

Poor Farmbeau.

I was laying in bed at 5:30, awakened by a bang, listening to the thunder and thinking about getting up to close the outswung windows in case of hail (it’s been really hot and humid), when he bounded out of bed, cursing.

“What? What!”
“It’s starting to rain, god damn it!”

That’s a good thing, I thought. So, what?

“We shouldn’t have left anything last night,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to that roof.” They’d worked as long as they could for the past two days on a roof in town, well past dark both nights.

Away he went, charging out to his half-ton and rocketing out of the yard. I put on the morning pot of coffee and swept up shards of burgundy glass from the lovely piece of stained glass my sister Jill made for me, which I’d left leaning against an open, screened window in the porch. That must have been the bang I heard.

Poor me.
Fortunately, only one bottom corner is broken. It’s probably reparable without having to redo the whole thing.

::

I wonder how long he’ll be gone, whether he’ll try to work in the rain or just get the roof covered up somehow so no damage will be done. If I knew, I’d put on a package of bacon and make a big, hot breakfast for when he gets home.

xoxoxoetc
~~~Kate