After all the drama of a major storm when we were between roofs, creating more damage than that caused by the leaks we were trying to get rid of, by replacing the old roof. You'd think the saga of the new roof would be now well and truly put to bed. Well if you were thinking that, you'd be very wrong.
Mr Beach House rang me with tones of panic in his voice on Friday afternoon. The general gist of the conversation went some thing like this.
Him: Did you put that $$$ into the superannuation fund? Read retirement fund if you are from the US.
Me: Yes, you said you had enough to honour the cheque?
Him: Well I did but now we don't have enough money to pay for the roof or run the business for a month until I get paid in 30 days for that order I delivered today. Why the hell did you send that cheque?
Me: Errr Hmm because you said to!
And so it went on.
Although at that point I would have rather been a character in this painting, I reassured him that with a little fiddling I could scrounge together an amount which almost resembled the bottom line on the quote and with this continued wet weather and the fact that the roofers would not be finished until at least mid next week we may be able to come up with the funds if our tax returns came back or we won the lottery or who knows. But I just told him not to sweat it. With that, I grabbed my wallet..... or so I thought and headed for the bank.
I had noticed that morning at the gym, that my wallet wasn't in my back pack, but I just thought that I had neglected to swap it over from my handbag. The gym let me in without ID so at that stage, all was well. It turns out I hadn't forgotten to swap it over, but rather than placing it in my gym bag, in the mad dash to get out of here in the morning, I had put it in the Beach House Brat's kindy bag, only a minor snag. But I had to sneak into kindy to retrieve that wallet without the kiddo seeing me and deciding it was time to come home. There was no way that was gunna happen as I so value my 'me time'. After that little mission accomplished, it was off to the bank to sort out the financial woes of the Beach House.
So it turns out that if we don't spend on anything this month other than food and employees' wages, we will be fine. Even the Beach House Brat has reluctantly agreed for his pocket money to accrue for the month.
Now you may remember that most Fridays of our marriage Mr Beach House has brought me home flowers. Personally I think he is scared of the flower lady that visits his factory complex each week, who stiff arms him to buy her flowers. Believe me, I am not ungrateful even if I sound so, as it is one of the brighter spots in our marriage, but what he pays for them, is sometimes a little questionable to this frugal female.
So after his panicked phone call to me earlier in the day and my mad dash around town to make sure the funds were in place for us to survive the month. Then me explaining that we couldn't afford so much as a take away coffee until after June 30, it was to my great surprise that Mr Beach House danced through the door last Friday evening, with this bunch of arum lilies for me.
Was it that I'd saved his arse once more? That I'd wasted two hours of my precious child free day, going from bank to bank to beg for the funds to see us through the month? Or that he hadn't heard my explanation that even the kiddos had to pull their belts in and forgo pocket money for a month? Well apparently not. His answer..... 'They were the cheapest bunch darl' Duh!!!!! And in their tattered condition I can see why!! I now know he hasn't been buying me flowers all these years to cover for an affair, as really with these el cheapo half dead beauties, why would you bother.
So I just had to style them in a vignette, laugh and then blog about them. That is the only way these flowers can make any sense to me. Desire Empire, that go to place I have up my sleeve, where I can escape for free and try and make sense of some of the more perplexing adventures and machinations at the Beach House.And here are some photos of the roof, old and new, which have both caused so much drama at the Beach House this week. The tiles are only 20 years old, but some genius nailed them down with steel nails, which in this coastal environment are now all rusted and are cracking the tiles, causing them to leak.
This is the new tin roof, as yet unfinished, you can see it is not screwed down properly, nor is it capped on the sides.
As I write, the rain is sheeting down and visibility outside is down to 10 metres. The only bright spot in an otherwise poop of a day, is that we seem to be leak free. Hallelujah. Hope I haven't spoken too soon.
Have a great week guys