Our contractor at the cottage told us that we’d get through the summer with the 1980 roof; he’d reshingle in the fall. Bad idea. Suzy and I braved the tail of tropical storm Barbara on the rooftop overlooking St. Peters Bay and the Gulf of St. Lawrence soaked to the bone and blackened by four bucketfuls of tar. It’s tough to spread tar in a downpour, even a tropical one, warm. At least the bugs weren’t bad. But at one moment I looked across the roof at my squatting tarred-up wife of seven years and felt all warm. At last: We’d managed to find some time away from the kids. Holiday!
So now we need a new roof and some new ceilings too. But that’s OK. The guests don’t mind. God bless ’em.
