I had lunch at the bakery in town today since I had to take my library books back and get stamps anyway. I came across this article in the Mason City paper. It's not terribly informative, but it caught my eye because I toured the Melson house last spring as part of the preservation conference I went to. Peggy gave a lovely tour and knows so many interesting things about the wonderful house she lives in.
These Old Houses
Last weekend we had a local carpenter, Al, out to fix our roof (situation still not resolved, so still no story). He had his sons out with him and one of them was climbing up to the second story off the north porch and the ladder slipped. He FELL!
We had joked that our roof would be the death of someone, but we never believe that it could happen.
I was at my moms and Tim was working in the field. I didn’t know about it until Al came in to be paid at the end of the day. I was mortified.
I imagined that he fell on one of the many piles of junk we had lying around. He could have been KILLED.
But his dad said he landed flat on his back on the grass, got up and brushed himself off, and then got back up on the roof. I told Al that you wouldn’t have seen me up on that roof again for three or four days (I was actually thinking never again), and he agreed.
I feel really bad about this. It’s really been bothering me. Are you obligated to do something like send flowers when your house almost kills someone? These guys even gave up their weekend to help us out and get the roof taken care of before it started raining again. It seems like something you’d write Dear Abby for advice about. It seems like you should do something, but what?
Nothing is happening on the house. And if you've got a problem with that you had better keep it to yourself. I've discovered that being nine months pregnant can make you very tired, cranky, and a little less receptive to criticism.
We are done having Dale work on projects. We decided with some of the major cost we have coming up that we need to start saving some money. Tim refuses to work on anything until he has his field work done even though I've politely reminded him that he promised to have the down stairs bathroom done and the door separating the up-stairs from the down up before the baby comes. Lucky for him I've become so tired and cranky I haven't gotten up the energy to ask him non-politely.
I have been spending what little free time I've had putting together pack-and-plays, annoying toys, high chairs, etc. These items have proven to be more difficult to assemble than any house-related project I have taken on. A certain Fisher Price play yard had me in tears threatening it with the screw-driver in my hand one evening. One important lesson I have learned however is that even if the instructions do not call for a hammer, you need one.
I've been waiting for the preservation group who is working on the Park Inn to start the process of trying to purchase the adjacent bank building. Now based on an article in yesterday's Gazette it looks like it might happen. Hopefully it's not some cruel April Fool's joke :)
Restorers will buy, renovate Wright's bank
