Friday, February 10, 2006

Roofers, Not Raccoons. Roofers. NOT Raccoons.

Sometimes I have to wonder about the things that go on in the world inside my head. And then I have to confess them to you. Lucky!

Case in point: last blog post, I made passing mention of roofer raccoons. Passing mention in blog-form, that is, because in my excellent brain? That mention became a pause and ponder and plan about just how a roofing team comprised only of raccoons would work.

In fact, it would work like this: the raccoon roofers, clad in overalls, lumberjack shirts and safety boots, purchased in the RACCOON section of Marks Work Warehouse, or, perhaps, the Cabbage Patch Kid aisle of Toys'r'Us, would scamper about merrily on my roof, clutching wee yellow plastic hammers in their paws, replacing skylights and shingles in the blink of an eye. The blink of a QUIET eye.

The reality of the situation, however, is that (a) raccoons are not skilled labour, and (b) I don't think they would ever get down with wearing boots. So real life human roofers have taken on the task, and I am left sighing over the excellence that could have, but can never be, with Mr. Coon and Sons, Roofers.

I will be happy when the roofing work is over and done with, and I will again have the option of walking about my home, nekkid as a jay-bird, without fear of a roofer peering in through the skylights in my bedroom. Because me and the roofing crew? I just don't feel that we're close enough to be comfortable having that kind of relationship. The raccoons, on the other hand - I fear they've already seen too much.

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