A wet one

It poured Monday morning -- several inches, and the stretch of Simonton that's already been torn up twice to fix flooding in front of the firehouse was, yet again, up to hubcaps.

Our little guest room was far luckier, though out of an abundance of caution I put those two paper bags of black grout out of harm's way, up on 2-by-4's.

Mr. B and Nate were waiting for the rain to end so they could pick up insulation -- a pickup bed isn't exactly waterproof, and the stuff really smells when it's wet.

While I was waiting at the house, up pulled a black Vette, and out popped Javier, the roof guy. He traced the leak back to the flashing the two Aces had spotted a week or so back, and said he'd come back when the roof was dry (and less slippery) to fix it all up.

He wants to get it done relatively early. Late in the week, he said, he's going to be Fantasy Festing, and he doesn't like going out on roofs after getting in at 4 a.m.