After the damage repair crew visited yesterday, we had a half dozen industrial fans and several mammoth dehumidifiers strategically arranged around our home to dry everything out. We were told that if they don't start drying it in 72 hours, mold starts growing. And we all know how Tim and Amy feel about that.
Long story short - we're in the Holiday Inn Express, courtesy of the MRGs (that'd be Moron Roofing Guys), and we will be "vacationing" in Coralville until Monday a.m. It's football weekend here, Iowa vs. Wisconsin, so we're probably the only people in the hotel NOT tailgating today. We opted not to stay in the house because we can't hear ourselves think, with the constant fan noise, which closely resembles the roar of a jet engine.
Actually, we're spending most of the day keeping an eagle eye on said MRGs after another of their potentially endless screw ups. They started shingling over wet tar paper this a.m. Now I'm no roofing expert (kinda scary that they are supposed to be), but even I know that a layer of wet paper between wood and shingles equals Moldfest 2004. So Tim narc'd on them to their boss (because no one on the crew speaks a lick of English) and they had to rip it all out and start over. And so, in addition to being morons, they really hate us...which isn't a great combo. Watch them put all the shingles on inside-out, just for spite.
And our poor Dolcekitty. She's so angst-ridden, what with all the boot clomping, yelling, fans blowing, phones ringing, I'm going to have to go score some feline valium for her.
Oh, and for your multicultural lesson today...the Spanish word for mold is molde. And the word for moron is, in fact, moron. So perhaps there's not such a language barrier after all.
Long story short - we're in the Holiday Inn Express, courtesy of the MRGs (that'd be Moron Roofing Guys), and we will be "vacationing" in Coralville until Monday a.m. It's football weekend here, Iowa vs. Wisconsin, so we're probably the only people in the hotel NOT tailgating today. We opted not to stay in the house because we can't hear ourselves think, with the constant fan noise, which closely resembles the roar of a jet engine.
Actually, we're spending most of the day keeping an eagle eye on said MRGs after another of their potentially endless screw ups. They started shingling over wet tar paper this a.m. Now I'm no roofing expert (kinda scary that they are supposed to be), but even I know that a layer of wet paper between wood and shingles equals Moldfest 2004. So Tim narc'd on them to their boss (because no one on the crew speaks a lick of English) and they had to rip it all out and start over. And so, in addition to being morons, they really hate us...which isn't a great combo. Watch them put all the shingles on inside-out, just for spite.
And our poor Dolcekitty. She's so angst-ridden, what with all the boot clomping, yelling, fans blowing, phones ringing, I'm going to have to go score some feline valium for her.
Oh, and for your multicultural lesson today...the Spanish word for mold is molde. And the word for moron is, in fact, moron. So perhaps there's not such a language barrier after all.
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