lundi 7 décembre 2009

Not feeling so lucky




That's pictures of the ceiling and wall in the room I plastered and painted about 7 years ago, my first effort in the house at beautification; they look even worse because I used the "I'm feeling lucky" feature on them in Picasa. The beautification was partial, even though it seemed gorgeous to me then (you'd have had to have seen the room before), since I just left the odd insulating paper in place on two walls and painted it to match everything else rather than installing drywall, or its French équivalent. Now, it's all ruined anyway.

First, there were the large cracks that opened in the walls and ceiling (I haven't even shown you the scary ones in the closet; I suspect the skeletons). They matched the ones downstairs, but everyone told us not to worry. They're probably just superficial.

Why, then, are they so wide and so deep?

Then, my husband's youngest daughter -- the one who is more than 12 but not 13 -- yelled from where she was sitting in bed, playing DS (I'm making an educated guess based on experience that she wasn't actually reading), "Il y a de l'eau au-dessus du lit!"

I thought of Monsieur Leroy, our local roofer, come last May to place a large tarp over the petite maison when the same thing happened there, who stood outside the house and looked at the work in progress with me. He had pointed up to the place where the newer part of the house joins the original 1865 construction, and he shook his head. We were going to have problems because we had one, according to him, already. I believed him. Just looking at this house is enough to tell you that we have more than one.

Of course, one of the two guys who has been doing all the work on the exterior renovation is a roofer himself. He said we needed a whole new roof, quickly. Monsieur Leroy said we didn't need a new roof any time soon, but we did need to take care of the flashing between the newer roof and the wall and around the chimney, quickly, only he was very busy. But, then it started to rain in the house before he could get back to do the work.

Audouin ran up to see. I could picture it, so I sat still and imagined water running down the wall, puddling on the floor. I had seen the water damage the other day, when I was treating and painting the new oak French door (By the way, chaletlafôret suggests Borax paste next time; leave it on for 30 minutes and follow up with almond paste. Sounds like something that would work on my face.). The paint already chipped on that, where it closes, and I did wait to shut the door.

"Prends une serviette et tirer le lit du mur!" I shouted, trying to be helpful. "J'ai vu ça avec Monsieur Leroy quand il est venu ici en mai," I told him when he came back down. "Il a dit qu'il faudrait qu'on fasse ça mais il n'avait pas le temps tout de suite."

"Tu l'appeleras demain?" Yes, I will call him tomorrow, I answered. He will come as soon as he can.

Hopefully, before the newer part of the house falls off and fells the thing we call the garage.
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