Right at this moment, there are a bunch of men on my roof, yanking off all the damaged shingles and preparing to attach new, superfly ones.  I think they might actually be done with the whole thing by the end of the day.  Never in my life did I think I could get this excited about a new roof.  Charles asked me this morning what 8th grade Charles and Lisa would have thought if someone had materialized in our algebra class to tell us that in the future, we would be balls-out thrilled about getting an insurance claim for our roof approved.  I said that first of all, we would never have believed that in the future we would be married, and secondly, we would never believe that we could grow up to be that boring.

It's weird to have such a major racket going on over my head, and if I didn't know what was going on, I would be calling the police to tell them aliens had landed and were trying to pry our roof off with their giant alien claws.  Our dog, who has grown into such a neurotic creature that the sound of a gentle spring rain falling on the roof sends her into a panting, keening frenzy?  Doesn't even seem to hear it.  She's just walking around and flopping down here and there, business as usual.  Good to know that if aliens ever do try to pry off the roof, she won't even bother to warn us.  We need only to be notified when something as horrific as rain is happening.