Clear the roof
It’s a given that I’m a creature of habit. I ride the same bus, go to the same office, purchase coffee grains at the same wonderful little shop in the middle of the old city. In fact, when I can go in and the girl on the counter remembers what variety of grain I prefer, it’s clear that I’m at home. Or maybe she doesn’t sell such particular orders to people that look like me; either way, when I went in today between two of my (regular) buses, the sense of belonging was enough to make me think spring had arrived.
Actually, it may have done so. The province is in a panic right now about “accumulated snow on the roof”, and I’m not referring to grey hair. Over the past few days, a number of buildings have collapsed, with fatal results. Yes, I’ve checked my own (not referring to grey hair, OK?), and all seems to be in order, but I would not want to have a big rainstorm right now.
In Montreal, the metro school board closed ALL (180+) of their schools in the middle of the day and sent the 90,000 prisoners students and teachers away while the snow was removed from each and every building. Actually, that qualifies as one of the wiser moves by administrators, when you consider the alternative. Closer to home, the status of all of our schools was on the list of questions for a council meeting later this evening.
So, what to do? If we get a few nice days, my own risk will be very low. If the ceiling starts to collapse, I probably won’t hear it in any case, because the television tends to mask most background noise. I used to shovel roofs for spending money when I was a teenager, as I was living in another part of the country that also suffers from the frozen water disease. Being roped to a chimney while perched on the edge of an icy set of shingles will remain with me, always, as a memory of how youth believe in their own invulnerability. It also paid much better than doing walks and driveways, but that’s a minor detail.
