A Holy Place

I've gotten to the point that I don't notice how high up it is. I don't get sick at my stomach with fear any more. My brain doesn't freeze up. I can even stand on the ledge of the balcony. And look down.


The holy grail of leaks starts here in this unlikely space. I look at it with reverence and respect now, knowing that its secrets are profound. Its leaking, legendary.


After much research I finally had a plan of action. If the roofers I called did not have an answer, or if they annoyed me in any way, or if they quoted an exorbitant amount. For any slight reason, I would send them away.


But they were great. And now I see that my plans were faulty. One of the leaks is fixed now (it was a hair-line crack in the wall--who knew?). And they will return on Friday to tackle the really mysterious one--if it can be tackled...

The Chupacabra of Leaks

The ceiling at top of the stairs has been leaking for 20 or 30 years. I know this because the previous owners cut a small, neat hole in it, about 6 x 6 inches, so that the water would have an easy and agreed-upon escape route. We've consulted with several roofers, of course, and all except one of them refused to take the job. The leak is infamous and legendary within the circle of local roofers, like the chupacabra, invincible, insidious and terrible, and no one will work on our roof. No one will even give us an estimate. The roofers drive up, see that it is our house, and then drive away.

This week another section of the ceiling buckled and began leaking. It's only a small area of ceiling, still with the original plasterboard, at least it was until I pulled it all down this week. Its geometry had changed such that the little hole was no longer the path of least resistance, and the entire section was soaked. What a mess.



So this finally gave me the opportunity to see where all that water was coming from.

Meanwhile, one of the bamboo tops broke off and impaled itself. Cool.


More later about the leak.