Gold overhead

Folks, I have found the answer to all of our money problems! It's been right above our heads this whole time!

Go outside and climb up on your roof. Do you see it? The gold? I know, I too only saw regular old asphalt shingles, but my friends, you have to look at it just right. You have to look at it the way roofers do. Pure Gold Baby.

Try getting quotes from them on replacing this Roof Made of Gold. Going by their quotes, it may not even be gold, it may be platinum or pure heating oil or whatever on earth could possibly cost more than having my roof redone. So far I have two quotes. One guy gave me a scale of good, better, best which ranged between $8,000 (gasp!) and $12,000 (ka-thud!!). The second guy is slightly more reasonable at $6,500, but still. I sent out an email at work asking for roofer recommendations, and everyone was very helpful. Many recommendations, not a one was recommended by more than one person. Fine, I'll get 8 million quotes. I'm sorry for the 7 million odd guys who are wasting their time, but since I have to try to take out a loan to cover this Yellow Brick Roof, lowest bidder wins.

On vacation

The brain in Boy 1's head? It apparently has gone on vacation. And I wish it well. I hope it comes back nice and relaxed and refreshed, because I'm not certain what shape Boy 1 will be in when it gets here.

Yesterday? Boy 1 went to a local school to skateboard in the parking lot, since it's vacation and the parking lot is empty. He met a friend there, had a great time. He showed me some pictures he took last night.

Me: Um, Boy 1? Where are you in this picture? Is the parking lot elevated or something? Why am I seeing the second stories of the houses behind you?

Boy 1: Oh, we went up on the roof and skateboarded.

Me: *thud*

After asking him WHAT on EARTH he was THINKING you are NOT supposed to SKATEBOARD on a ROOF for the love of PETE, he calmly answered me that "no told him not to".

Huh. Well. I replied that I hadn't specifically told him not to murder anyone today, but assumed it was implied under a general "behave, child".

Teamwork

The children? They have me in a spot.

You see, they are working on their skateboards. Switching around wheels and trucks and whatever else you tinker with on a skateboard. And they are doing this ON MY KITCHEN TABLE. I was all set to remind them the table is for eating at or playing games, even a comfortable place to throw a temper tantrum while doing homework, NOT for playing mini mechanic.

But I can't say a word. Why? Because they are working together, peacefully. In a nice, kind manner. They haven't even called each other many names or tried to maim each other with the screw driver.

That's worth scrubbing my table extra well tonight.

I'm a quiter

Oh, people. I've learned my lesson. Nothing good comes from stalking. Also? I have nerves of the finest silk, not steel, and am not cut out for the high stress world of newspaper delivery.

First of all (why yes, this is a long list of bitching. sit down, put your feet up), I could not get to sleep. Couldn't nap, couldn't sleep. Awake. As in, still awake today, from yesterday. Whoo boy, am I going to be cranky this afternoon when I go grocery shopping. (word of advice? stay away from Hannaford's this afternoon. I'm just sayin')

Second, I had NO IDEA so many people had vicious barking dogs they left out at night. It's warm, but not that warm people. Also? If you leave specific instructions that you want your newspaper tucked between your front door and the screen door? Then don't leave a barking pit bull tied up next to said door. Because my wimpy ass? Is not delivering your paper to that door. It will be on your driveway where I can safely chuck it from my car without being eaten alive by Kujo.

Third? Lights people. It's dark at night, and I don't fancy killing myself on your rickety steps/stairs/yard. And the people who live in apartment buildings, with no lights in the corridors or stairs and want the paper delivered to their third floor door? With no lights? Woman all by herself in the middle of the night? No way. Not going to happen. I've seen the movies, I know what happens to lone women who go up the stairs instead of out of the house. I could practically hear the scary music playing.

Fourth. (almost done, I promise) If you want your newspaper stuffed through the mail slot, do me a favor and don't have one of those nifty spring loaded mail slots that keep the drafts out. Because, when I shove the large Sunday paper through, it snaps shut on my finger, neatly slicing 1/2" of skin off the top of my finger. (sorry about that, not a pleasant discovery for you this morning, I'm sure.) It's bled through two band aids, and I'm not really fond of bleeding.

Lastly, the pay. I was told I could make $350-400 a month doing this. While not a ton of money, it would certainly help. However, while talking with my trainer last night, I realized something. That is before I 'buy' the papers to sell to my customers. As in, I'd actually bring home much less.

And that means it's just not worth it to me. Although the timing of this job would have been perfect, not leaving the boys home alone (awake), I just am not going to do it. The pay and the scary unlit apartment buildings did it, but the injury certainly didn't help either.