There was a fellow stabbed near death in Wichita this morning.
There was a shooting in a small town north of Wichita.
And, about seven-thirty this morning two trucks pulled into the drive. Dog went ballistic.
It was the Mexican Crew for the roofing company.
About eleven-ten this morning I watched the crew depart, the job completed.
All roofing and underlayment stripped off. All underlayment replaced and new roofing replaced, all the crap they threw off the roof policed up and loaded on the truck for disposal.
They even went around the house three times (coounter clockwise and clockwise) with a very large magnet with wheels, policing up stray nails.
Dog looked . . . ? Well, like I did somewhat:
Thing looks good.
I even had several of the nosey neighbors drive by. A couple on four wheelers; a guy that hasn’t walked a mile in the past fifteen years walked by. Probably figured he needed the exercise.
And it rained this morning at seven.
I asked the crew foreman if he was seriously considering the work that morning and he assured me it would be all right. It was.
He asked me, when he had the crew and all the equipment loaded to leave, standing there with his thumb in the air, “Alright?”
Yeah, man. It was alright.
Hell. It even looked good.
From the reaches,