I think I’ve hurt my house’s feelings; it’s acting out.
This morning, I opened my eyes to a disconcerting bulge in the plaster almost directly above, on the wall behind my bed. So I got dressed, laid down some plastic and towels, then poked at it. It began weeping.
Clearly, the house is sad that I’m threatening to sell it. Clearly.
Outside, at about the same location on the house as the interior problem, there’s a killer icicle. (Seriously – that thing could kill someone were it to fall on them…but, it’s inside my fenced backyard, so if it does fall, well, I think I would win that lawsuit.)
I thought it was a box gutter problem, but Dyami Plotke (of The Penultimate Woodshop renown), tells me it’s likely a result of ice damming – melting water from the house’s escaping heat being forced back under the shingles by the gutters, which are probably full up with ice.
And, he kindly gave me several options for fixing the problem…none of which are in my skillset even if I had a 40′ ladder. (Dyami, by the way, is a division manager for a New York roofing company, and is an expert in diagnosing and fixing these kinds of things. Too bad he’s a 10-hour drive away.)
But there’s nothing to be done in the short term…other than be vigilant about changing that towel tucked into the plastic behind my bed (there’s more plastic taped atop the baseboard and onto the carpet, to create an “overflow” trough with more towels, in case I manage to sleep through my every-two hours alarm tonight to change the towels).
I have a roofer who specializes in old houses coming tomorrow at lunch time; I’m just hoping he can do something to mitigate the immediate problem (so I can get some sleep), and that a permanent fix can be effected quickly.
Then, it looks like I’m breaking out the hawk and knives again. Then the paint.
I don’t like it when my house cries. It’s making me want to cry, too.