Wednesday, January 28, 2009
I get no respect. First, the lightning lightning rod gets installed. Next season, it gets a a plastic non-recyclable-lives-forever-grocery-bag stuck on it. Even recent 75-mile-an-hour gusts have not torn it off (past rant here). But now, apparently, my high-minded, witty, commissioned-to-a-real-sculptor-piece-of-art-I-designed is now a favorite birds-sitting (and shitting) spot. It's too steep a pitch on this part of the roof for me to ever consider getting up there myself to take the bag off. I may have to wait until I find a roofer working on a house in the 'hood and pay them to go up there. As far as the birds go, I could electrify the lightning rod, though that sounds counter-intuitive.