Modern Toil

When I bought my house, the majority of the houses on the other side of the street for that block were vacant. They all showed telltale signs of harsh Pennsylvania weather and years of disrepair. There was a surplus of better-condition housing elsewhere in town, and I often wondered how long these houses would stand before mother nature finally won.

As the market picked up, several of these houses sold and the owners were turning their new purchased run-down coal era homes into modern vinyl-sided, remodeled little wonders. Just recently, another of these battered bungalows was picked up by a family moving into the area. They propped up the rotting porch, installed new locks, and starting carrying waves of supplies and various personal belongings inside.

A few days ago, I noticed a small gathering of local folk on my front steps, staring at roof-level across the street. Apparently my new neighbors had contracted to have their roof replaced (it was in dire need), and the results we’re, well, worthy of a good solid stare.

Trust me, you’ll want to click the image to see the full-size picture.

I don’t even have words at this point. I can’t say I’m a roofer, ever aspired to be a roofer, or even know a roofer, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s done. I’ve talked with the owners of the house, and they do plan on seeking a claim with the contractor who performed the work, but this shouldn’t even be necessary. Who in their right mind does work like this? A half-drunk monkey on meth with 3 fingers and one leg could, and probably would, do better work.