| Saturday, January 5, 2008 |
11:58 - What about if I sludge you, ya old bat?
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Here's what happens in a state that doesn't get any rain for most of the year, and then each winter chooses one month at random to dump an entire year's worth of water on us all at once.
Freeways flood, big rigs get blown over, wimpy little underused storm sewers clog and overflow, commuters go careening into 40-car wrecks, and thousands of homeowners go scuttling up their extensible ladders to slouch about on their two-story roofs in the pelting rain, cleaning the debris and goop out of their gutters so they don't have to walk through a curtain of water that dribbles over the edge of the brimming gutter and falls in big boogery gouts into the back of your collar on your way out to the car.
Yes, Mrs. Glick, the sludge really does collect in those downspouts:
Enough so that you have to hose off the wall four feet up to clean off the gunk you've scooped out and hurled to the deck below.
There were a lot of chunks of old cedar shake, roofing nails, and red gritty sand that's sloughed off the steel roof we put on last summer. Apparently the roofers didn't exactly do an exemplary job of cleaning everything up when they left. But it sure is satisfying to see all that water and mud and stuff gushing out the bottom drain and overflowing all over the quartz gravel in a red sandy naily pile that will be just as much of a pain to clean up, if at less risk to life and limb.
And my roommate will never know which spoon I used to dig out all the crud from those downspouts. Heh heh heh...
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Brian Tiemann
