It’s Not the Roof!

How can I put this gently?  IT’S NOT THE ROOF!  OK, maybe I better give that another shot minus the “caps lock” … I know it seems like the symptoms of a roof leak, but it’s genuinely not a roof leak.  There.  That’s better. 

So, what do you do when the roofer says that wet, sagging ceiling of yours wasn’t caused by a leaky roof?  Get another roofer out there, pronto?  No, no, no.  Take a breath.  Don’t get overwhelmed with frustration.  There are other plausible explanations for that wet ceiling. 

1. Is it bitter cold winter?  If so, there’s a good chance the humidity in your house is playing a nasty trick on you.  When our houses are closed up tight in as we work hard to eliminate every draft, an abundance of moisture can easily accumulate in an attic.  When moisture in the air comes into contact with the cold under-surface of your roof decking, it may condense.  That condensation can drip and  mimic a roof leak.  Your best defense against this problem includes the one-two punches of adequate attic ventilation and improved insulation.   
2. Is it the rainy season?  If so, check those downspouts.  Do you have a second story downspout that runs over an area of roof?  If so, is it directed into one of the lower eaves troughs?  Or, is it blasting loads of water right at a roof-meets-wall joint?  Imagine the classic colonial home.  This could be the problem.  And solving it could be as simple as diverting water from the second story downspout right into the first story eaves tough. 
3. Other suspects include:  improperly routed bathroom fan vents  or a soil vent stack that hasn’t been plumbed securely.  Or it could be wind driven rain sneaking behind your vinyl siding. 

The solution?  First and foremost, make sure you’ve got a roofing contractor you trust wholeheartedly.  Second, keep an open mind and listen attentively.  Lastly, let him get to work on a solution for you!

Tidal-holic

I recently handed the monthly bookkeeping over to our accountant.  It was how I imagine handing the keys over to my newly licensed driver will feel in roughly 6 more years.  I’ve been doing the bookkeeping for our little company for…ever.  The funny thing is that I’m a creative at heart and becoming bogged down with the in and out flows took quite a while.  Year to date comparison P & L’s run on a monthly and then weekly basis soon followed. 

Who knew bookkeeping was a gateway to compulsiveness?  I am sure someone knew that.  But I didn’t.  It wasn’t until three months after my roofer and the other roofer and his wife gave me a thumbs up to turn the monthly maintenance over that I finally got my nerve up and did it.  I called Joe.  He told me how to package up the files, statements, monthly and quarterly reports from 2010.  And I did it all.  Wrapped it up in a nice neat email, files attached and it just sat there in the “drafts” box of my email.  I had a death grip on that stuff.  But finally I got out of my own way and sent it over.  And I breathed.  Deep.  No more dreading that the mistake I made this year will finally be the one that cost more than a payroll service I should have hired years ago.  What’s so funny is that I know Joe’s only doing it as a favor to us.  He’s certainly not going to retire off of us.  In fact I’d be surprised if he made anything off this arrangement of ours. 

All this has shown me just how much I hate change.  It hate it lots more than the pain of just about any uncomfortable situation you can drum up.  But this year, with some much needed business coaching, which I suppose was just the couch trip this roofer’s wife needed, I’ve learned that fearing change isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.  It’s much, much worse.  So get out of your own way already. 

I just glanced at my post title.  Tidal-holic.  And it reminded me of why I started this rant.  I held that bookkeeping assignment inside my heart for nearly 15 years.  When you’re self-employed, keeping the books, watching the ebb and flow of cash can easily become a compulsion.  Especially when your business is seasonal.  The money flows up on your beach, lapping at your calves and it’s cool, refreshing.  And then it slips down back into the ocean, impossibly slick.  Dripping through your fist.  And you watch those tides – like a surfer.  You watch.  The ebb and flow of the tide is hypnotic.  You can’t tear your eyes away.  You’re not watching the high tide and low tide anymore.  You’re married to each wave that hits your shore.  Balance goes up, up, up.  It’s bliss.  Balance goes down – oh it’s sinking low.  Fret, fret, fret.  That beach is brutal.  Cut glass and jagged shells.  But it’s of your own making.  The salty sailor knows that no matter what the individual wave is doing, the tide is sure to roll back in.  It always has.  It always will.  Breathe.