"Uh oh," I said to J, who was finally getting around to writing a new post for his blog.
"What do you mean, 'uh oh?,'" J replied.
"I mean this," said I, as I pointed to the ceiling, which looked like this. . .
. . . except that last night there was water dripping through the seam that had just opened up (toward the bottom of the photograph, between the water stain and the attic hatch). The water hitting the marble-top table just underneath that seam was the new rhythm of the falling rain that I had just discerned, much to my disappointment.
J and I, both being resourceful individuals, quickly located and brought upstairs a ladder and a bucket, and J was able to place the bucket under the leak, which luckily was reachable through our small attic space. Our solution looked like this:
Eventually the drip through the den ceiling subsided, as J and I enjoyed the rest of our evening by the fire secure in the knowledge that we had done everything within our power at 9:30 p.m. on a Thursday to contain the leak. Eventually we went to bed, listening to the non-stop pouring rain and hoping that our little blue bucket would be large enough to contain the overnight leakage.
Seeing my attic for the first time in many years inspired quite an exciting dream last night. I dreamt that, unbeknownst to me, I had a whole top story consisting of two bedrooms, a bathroom, and small kitchenette area. To top that all off, there was a door at the back of the third story that opened outdoors onto a staircase leading to a grassy backyard, complete with a garage! The newly found elements of my property were in pretty rough shape, and there was a squatter living in the attic who I had to toss, gently but firmly. (And to think -- all this time I thought that all that bustling I continually hear overhead was just squirrels!) Just as I was contemplating big plans for my newly-discovered third story (can you say mega master suite?) and reveling in the fact that I had a decent-sized yard with off-street parking (in real life, of course, I have neither), I awoke to the sound of Lincoln the cat throwing up on the bedroom floor.
After we (in this case really meaning J) had dealt with the cat mess, J and I were thrilled to discover that the bucket indeed had provided sufficient damage control overnight. However, I must confess that I was crestfallen to find that the attic still looked like this. . .
. . . instead of the spacious fixer-upper of my dreams. I pretty much figured it would still just be the same old meager attic that I had seen the night before, but you can't blame a girl for checking to make sure, can you?
Now I'm off to call an assortment of Capitol Hill roofers. Wish me luck, and sunny skies, until some roofer can find time to show up and hopefully provide a better fix than the blue bucket.