This past fall, we put a steel roof on the house.
We figured if our old roof (made of dried quinoa) only lasted eleven years on a newly built home, we would be buying new roofs by the hundreds before we died. (Because we are going to live forever)
The steel roof seemed like a solid choice and we could add it to our list of “Things We’ll Never Have To Do Again” right next to the only other item on the list “Buy Cauliflower.”
The steel roof crew was fantastic. They had everything in place and cleaned up in four days which was well under their two week estimate.
They were all friendly, they worked hard and in the end, we have been very happy with the outcome, all but for one, small detail.
When it snows, the steel roof elves gather all of the hard, chunky deposits in a 4’x4’ area directly above my garage door and when the elves (lead by their master “Buddy” our Elf on the Shelf) decide the time is right, they dump it all directly in front of my garage door opening.
When I say, “the time is right” I mean, the elves watch me leave the garage and return home and with each departure and arrival, there is a welcome home dumping and a you-think-you’re-getting-out-of-here-without-an-avalanche smothering.
They aren’t so cold as to dump without warning. Remember that popping sound in the Princess Bride in the fire swamp? I get a ten second rumbling sound resembling a child seconds from vomiting and then it’s over before anyone could make it to the toilet.
If I can gun the van in reverse, I can sometimes miss the perfectly angled shot by the elves but this doesn’t come without its own set of risks. For example, I have to assume there is no one on our driveway because there is really no time to look in the rear view mirror once the rumbling begins.
Some days when I arrive home, the driveway is sleek, black and glistening in the sun, except for the ski-hill keeping me from enjoying sheltered parking until mid-summer. I didn’t feel right selling lift tickets to the neighbours so there’s not even a business opportunity that makes sense.