It was like coming home to Grand Central Station. The driveway was full with work vehicles but I saw no one on the roof. I snaked my way in between a van, an unhitched trailer, and several bundles of shingles.
Our front yard looked like a tornado had hit. Remnants of our side yard pine and magnolia were cut up in pieces and strewn about, to be chipped up, hopefully by tomorrow.
Wife was sitting at the porch table reorganizing the bill holder. I could see the roofers sitting around on our deck; they were all holding popsicles.
Wife said she thought someone had fallen off because the roofers were scurrying off the roof at the same time, running to the front of our house. She saw the ice cream truck pull up and the roofers gathering around.
Popsicle break was over and they all went back up the ladder, a few with bundles of shingles on their backs.
Pop, pop, pop went the nail guns and the air compressor started it’s hum, hum, humming. Whump, whump, whump went the bundles of shingles dropped on the roof. See the roofers. See the roofers make a racket. See bb and wife try to converse. See bb and wife leave the house for a quiet dinner somewhere.