Earth, Wind and a Bank Account on Fire

To summarize, my plate has been full of work, relocation, the IRS and a child in need. But wait! There's more.

During the Easter weekend, we had torrential rain and wind (some call it a tornado) and it felt like the Book of Revelations had finally come to pass. We didn't care, though. The children were delirious from eating their weight in chocolate, the house was clean and we had nothing better to do than to nestle inside with a good book and a cup of java.

I got a text message from our tenant asking me to call when I got a moment.

On Easter Sunday.

Which meant one of two things: either Jesus Christ himself had risen in the backyard or there was a problem with the house. I bet you can guess which one it was.

Yep. The house. Specifically, there was a leak in the ceiling in the front foyer. And the back fence had fallen most of the way down.

When I told Dallas, we kind of just looked at one another and shrugged.

"Can I get you a beer?" he asked.

"Make it a rum," I answered.

And it just kept getting better. We recently switched insurance companies so on the Tuesday after Easter, when I called the agent to report the issue, she couldn't find us in the system yet. I had a mild panic attack until she assured me that we'd be there soon and there was nothing to worry about. They've been great, actually. An adjuster has called but we won't see anyone for weeks because that little storm caused heaps of damage in areas further south in the state. I think the agent referred to it as "disaster management". Um..yeah. We got off lightly.

Last weekend, we had more of the apocalyptic weather and I called our tenants to see how they'd fared. No problem, apparently. The leak didn't drip. Instead, a lovely 7" wet spot has appeared in the ceiling and there is now a visible crack from one wall to the other.

(Fingers in my ears, la, la, la, I can't hear you)

This weekend, the forecasters are calling for more rain. I've been on the phone this week trying to get a roofer out to put a tarp on the problem area until we can get things fixed but nobody seems eager to do it. Apparently tarp work doesn't pay as well as say, an entire roof job. I'd ask Dallas and our handy friend, Ron, to go out there and pull a MacGyver but with our recent luck, lightning strikes and rogue squirrel attacks could actually come into play.

So we will sit, with bucket in hand and wallet aflame waiting for the other and the other and the other shoe to drop. And it's okay.

Because we've got the worst luck on the planet

got a big bottle of rum

got our health.