We also got new gutters. Gorgeous, amirite?
Last week, I bought the second most expensive thing I've ever purchased in my life.
Yes, my house represents the number-one big-ticket item. And ever since the day we signed on the dotted line to become homeowners, I've known that this enormous follow-up expense was unavoidably coming my way.
A new roof.
Blah. How boring is that.
I've been dreading this expenditure for years. I knew the day would come when we would be forced to blow somewhere around $25,000 on this utilitarian and mandatory but mind-blowingly mundane maintenance item and there was no way to cushion the blow.
I mean, we did what we could to stave off the pain.
We kept the first roof as clean as possible.
We replaced worn shakes and repaired small leaks.
We waited as long as we possibly could. And then some.
This summer, my husband and I agreed that the sorrowful day could wait no longer. We met with our roofers to seal the deal, and wrote them a big fat check. Then as I sat glumly by, imagining my hard-earned dollars sprouting wings and flying out of my bank account, a fleet of workers descended upon my home and began ripping my old roof to shreds.
Somewhere around the time that the giant heaps of worn shingles were carted off to the industrial size dumpster in my driveway, and the massive crane arrived to deliver the new shakes to the tippy-top of the now-naked roof, I began to get excited.
My new roof is unexpectedly beautiful, its fresh-cut cedar shakes shimmering in the autumn mist. Architecturally, our roof is a huge feature of our home's street appeal, and those new shakes make the place look like a million bucks.
It never occurred to me how pretty a new roof can be.
But best of all, my new roof is a beautiful metaphor for protection and safety and preservation of all that goes on underneath. I can't help but feel that my home is now ready for a fresh cycle of life, and I'm excited to see what happens in this new season.
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