A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD

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While I have a problem of engaging in activities that are far beyond my abilities (minor home repairs, car maintenance, staying awake), there are some things that are so beyond the scope of my skill that I would never even think about attempting. Open heart surgery comes to mind. Some things should be left up to professionals. Another, however, is roofing. The odds of my ever putting a roof on my house are about the same as the odds of my developing the ability to hover.

For those of you who are not into extreme gambling, what I’m trying to say is that I will never, ever try and put a roof on my house. I know my limits, and my limits extend to the point where I could not only do serious damage to myself, but also my house and potentially my family. The first has never stopped me, the second is not a huge deterrent standing alone, but all three put together send up a great big red light for me.

But, being a guy, there has always been a little part of me that has said, “Gee, wouldn’t I enjoy the satisfaction of laboring in the hot sun, paying my sweat dues while I make my house even better for my family?” That little part of me is insane, however, so I try and tune it out as best I can. Granted, sometimes it says things that make a tremendous amount of sense (“Throw your empty can at the television and the referee will no longer make lousy calls.”) so I obey.

Fortunately, I found a way to satisfy my manly desire to experience roofing without the potential of (a) having my own roof collapse or (b) sliding off the roof to my imminent paralysis.

My neighbor has been installing a back deck at his house for some time. If you ask his wife, the construction began around 1942. They used to have what I would consider a perfectly fine deck. But he decided that he needed something bigger, faster, stronger. Yes, a bionic deck was soon planned. He tore the original deck down, and rebuilt it from scratch. I told him this seemed like a waste of a perfectly good deck, at which point he started speaking in tongues, using words like “joist,” so I kinda tuned out.

Throughout the deck construction project, I have offered up my services. My neighbor has smiled politely and then slowly backed away, I suppose hoping I would forget. You see, he has seen my handiwork, and it ain’t pretty. It’s a safe bet that the best way to ensure a solid, permanent deck is to (a) plan properly and (b) not have me work on it.

But once he got to the roofing stage, I guess he figured there was no way I could do permanent harm, because he let me come over and help. The first step in the roofing process was to haul up the plywood that would make the actual roof. This was an interesting exercise for me, because it was here that I learned an important difference between skilled craftsmen and myself.

As we were lining up the boards, my neighbor would check their alignment, making sure everything was a snug, tight fit. Another neighbor had put one board down, and relayed that it was about a quarter-inch longer than the others. Now, had this been me, I would have been dancing in celebration. In all of my ill-conceived home improvements, I have never come that close to getting things equal in length. But not my neighbor. “Close enough” was not a theory he subscribed to. We actually pulled the board down so he could cut a quarter inch off of it. I sat there amazed at this, when something occurred to me – maybe THAT’S why things other people construct don’t fall apart. Hmm.

After the wood was up, we moved on to the tar paper, which is a long roll of nasty, sticky, smelly paper that is coated in tar (duh). We rolled out each strip and nailed it in, following our set-forth guidelines of where to put nails. Even with fairly easy directions, I managed to put the nails in the wrong place. Another neighbor was kind enough to dub that “Pulling a Mike.” Hopefully, I have not had my name forever logged as a screw-up in neighborhood construction vernacular.

Fortunately, my nail placement faux pas was nothing critical, and the deck has maintained its structural stability. I wasn’t around for the next phase, which was the shingling of the roof. I kinda think my neighbor waited until I was out of town to do that. Can’t say I blame him. But now the roof is up, and I feel a certain amount of pride when I see it, knowing that I played a part – albeit a small one – in getting it to its current state. It’s nice to know that I not only contributed, but also didn’t bring the entire project crashing to the ground. To me, that makes for a job well done.