Ice Dam Season

Hero

Snow and ice removal guys are working on my roof. I know a lot more about ice dams and ceiling leaks now than I did a couple weeks ago, and I fear I have more education in my future.

It’s tempting to put an ice dam in my novel. Where is that novel, anyway? The one about the writer who works at home and has people banging on her roof? She’s the sort who gets up in the middle of the night to check the pots under the drips. While she’s there, she climbs up on a chair in her bathrobe to poke an extra hole in the ceiling, dubiously hoping to guide the disparate dripping points into one more productive, more easily contained drip.

It’s a psychological thriller of woman against nature, and the primal conflict centers around whether the perpetual dripping will make her crack. Danger lurks in the home. The cast of characters includes the insurance adjuster, the roofer, the ice removal team, and various contractors, all forceful, sturdy men with strong opinions and tales of hard weather. We may or may not throw in a moment when she removes a ladder by swinging it over to drop on the power lines.

“Give it a few hours,” says my guy. “It’ll stop dripping soon, and if we don’t have a big storm Thursday, you should be okay.”

Brave words, nobly said.  One can hope.