I must have been dreaming, to think even for a moment that I might've been done tearing off shingles by now. Last week I confidently, crazily, told a friend, "I'll have the last shingle off by dark Saturday night." I was dreaming. Dreaming of a week with perfect weather and no interruptions. But that's not my life. I lost much of Wednesday to sleep; Thursday was spent at a funeral and a structure fire; Friday's plans were sidelined by the a/c going out in my car, which required five hours at the dealership to repair; and the heat index on Saturday was 102. Not to mention that my son "forgot" to come over and help, I forbid my mom to because of the heat, and sometime on Friday I realized I need a taller ladder. Aaaaack!!
Nevertheless, this is the week's progress on the east wall of the house:
So maybe next week the shingles will be gone. After I borrow my neighbor Floyd's ladder (Floyd to the rescue again!), overcome my fear of heights, brave the heat, and get crack-a-lackin.