It's raining today, so no roofers. By this time tomorrow, my headache may have dissipated, just in time for them to start work on the garage.
Rob asks just how tall the alarmingly tall contractor might be - I don't have a number, but I can tell you that he is so tall that he has to duck to walk through my front door. he doesn't do the "tall person stoop" when he talks to you, which I admire.
I've been reading Linda H. Davis' biography of the cartoonist Charles Addams, as in the Addams Family. I have a weakness for biographies of the people who lived and thrived in the early years of the New Yorker. Occasionally they reach the point of smarmy intellectualistic elitism that offends even my ego, but this one is terrific. Much like the most recent biography of Charles Schultz, Davis intersperses plenty of Addams' cartoons in the text and she's clearly having fun with her subject, even while bringing the right professional tone. Addams comes across as a dedicated man with a sense of fun who enjoyed teh macabre atmosphere around him.
I'd rather be reading about Addams, but right now I have essays to grade. I am convinced that they reproduce in the night...