Apr. 17th, 2007

So, I'm apparently sleeping deeply these days, or at least last night.

We've had loads of wind and rain lately. Last night, Tom said something about "That was a loud one" while I was half asleep. I thought he was talking about poodle farts.

But no . . . when I woke up this morning at the respectable hour of 9:20am, I stumbled into the bathroom to see that boy had not yet opened the blinds or turned off the nightlight.

And this is what I see.

Aw, shit. That is not our normal view.

Walked over to the next room . . . it's not looking any better.

I check on boy, but he's on the phone. I wonder if he even knows, since the blinds are closed. I hurriedly dress, grab the camera, and run outside.

That oak tree appears to be in the wrong place. I walk slowly around the side, making sure the power lines aren't compromised. I hurry toward the downslope portion of the yard, slipping on the mud and leaves. I look back.

Dammit.

Turns out boy did know. He heard and felt it fall at 1:30am. I don't know how I didn't, since a tree falling on the house is one of my larger fears. He said that he got up, looked around, saw that the house wasn't falling down and there were no sparks, and decided it was best to just let me sleep. It was a smart thing to do, because now I'm well rested and can handle a full on freak out without tears and preggo hysteria.

He's talked to insurance. We can't get a claims adjuster out until tomorrow.

We can't get up into the attic because the safety ladder is under the tree. While it appears to have settled, I really don't want boy sliding under the trunk to get to the ladder. He tried sticking the camera up while standing on the stepstool, but it didn't get enough height to look over the insulation and the roof pitch is so gentle (ranch) that he needs to be up about three more feet to get shots of the area where the tree is.

I didn't need this today, but at least there doesn't appear to be major damage. I really hope the joists are okay. The fence will need repair (roots pulled it up), but that's easy enough to deal with--just means Jericho must be completely supervised.
So . . . what does make PregnantLady erupt?

Well, it's not a tree falling on the house.

It's not even freecyclers failing to show up to get the goddamn boxes crowding the front room.

She can even handle the dog rolling in mud after he'd been bathed.

But PregnantLady cannot handle opening the silverware drawer and finding mouse turds.

I need coffee. I can't deal with this.

Coffee and mousetraps.

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