We have roof damage, or more accurately, a roof that needs new tar. Or whatever that aluminum colored material they brush on in a thincoat. I’m negotiating with Pat, the cook, to do the roof in return for playing at some of his pool parties. A fair trade. Here is Wallace examining the roof, we found the material becoming brittle with age. We found evidence of earlier patching jobs, but whatever the problem, we caught it in time.
There was also some interior damage to the ceiling tiles. Water leaked from the highest point on the roof, the peak you see at the lower left by Wallace. That does not make sense, but the stains are the facts. Water flowed uphill at least four inches. Wallace says the wind is responsible. That wind and water storm last week was the worst in living memory, even hurricanes don’t rain for twenty hours straight. A musty aroma is also around the patio, which I suspect is wet leaves starting to compost. We put a turbo fan under the exposed deck joists on the east side.
Ah, the joys of home ownership. We went over to Kim’s and borrowed her extension ladder. The plan is to get this repair work done right the first time. While up on the roof we glanced around to see how the neighbors handled the same problems. It looks like we are better off than they are. Nobody was impressed by the flimsy building materials, we expected that. We made a special trip up to Home Depot for parts. I promptly spent all my cash at the pet store nearby.
Which aims us back at the strange aroma around the patio. We know it is from under the building, and we removed everything that could get wet or that could puddle water. I noticed the cat was refusing to go under the building at the same time the smell began. It is a vegetable smell, not animal. Why would a cat not want to go near such a scent? Ah, because it is wet or damp. We have devoted many resources to solving this mystery. This goes to show you the aftermath of that storm must have hurt this area. You can see from the photo our 18” concrete foundation, far superior to what most places have. Yet we are still, as it were, digging out. Goes to show you that freak storms will always cause property damage no matter how well you prepare. That’s why they are called freak storms. If there is water damage underneath, it will have to remain for now. It didn’t get there in one or two weeks and we can’t get rid of it that fast either.
Now all this work tuckers us out. Time for that siesta. Wallace didn’t get his laundry done and I barely woke up in time to head for bingo. And a successful bingo it was, which is good as the way things work, it gets included in the last week of 2009 on my books. Makes that year look even better. Pudding-Tat will be getting her expensive tick treatment thanks to the little old ladies of Jimbos.
There were some new faces, and they are from that club across from Jack. Jack is my computer student, the guy who tests the winning race horses for steroids. I’ve often walked to my car from his place and noticed the Elks across the road, but I never checked it out. That is where our bingo recruits are coming from. My goal is not to steal anybody’s customers but to set things up to play both houses.
That is because bingo has crossed the bar. It now meets my standards as a separate brand of stage performance, equal in stature with music. I make 10% or more of my monthly income from bingo. I have a statistic I apply to determine the quality of my performances. You’ve heard me kick around the topic in the past, I probably worded it as “tips per customer per hour”, or something to that effect. That is probably also why you’ll never hear me complain of not enough tips, there is no such thing. I factor in the size of the audience, and my worst gig ever brought in just $1.00, but there was only one person in the audience. That was February 29, 2008, and thus that gig successfully met my criteria.
Allow me to differentiate my $1.00 gigs. I did not quit playing. And I’m coming from the point when in Florida, I played with other musicians whose tips per gig amount to zero for weeks on end and who consider $10 a good night at the coffeehouse. On my books that would be 10 cents per customer per hour. Bad news, if you ask me. Since I play mainly for tips, it is easy to grasp my emphasis on pleasing the crowd rather than negotiating with the owner.
