Mixing Metaphors

I'm trying to make progress on more than one front at a time, and I don't feel especially successful.

Perhaps it's typical for summer. Perhaps life is always like this, and I become aware periodically. 


Recently, I wrote on a scrap piece of paper: How is a leaking roof like a manuscript in progress?

Well, maybe a better question is how are they NOT alike, amirite?

Neither works well, as is. But it's easy enough to ignore how poorly they're working until it rains and you're forced to notice. 

Both are tricky to fix. You think you know where the problems are, but when you finally get a roofer to stop by, he says it's the siding and the chimneys. Siding people say they don't do chimneys (though chimney supporting structures have siding and flashing). Chimney people say that they fix only chimneys they have put in. 

When you venture up in the attic to slather the underneath of the roof with caulking, which is a patch job at best, you discover other stuff. Back to books for a moment--I recently read a couple that I'm pretty sure were the manuscript version of caulked when they could have used a new roof. I can understand why people don't take their manuscripts apart; it's daunting. But that's the best fix. And it's frustrating to read something that is patched when the actual fix would have been more satisfying and less difficult than it appeared ahead of time.  

So basically, we enjoy rainy days in summer--beyond cooling off the world and nurturing growth, they help with our well. (Gosh, that's a metaphor too.) But they also make us uncomfortably aware of elements of our shelter that we need to fix. 

The only conclusion I have come to is something I read on Instagram that has a long lifespan in social media: The magic you're looking for is in the work you're avoiding.

I'm not looking for magic--just a puzzle that fits together in a satisfying, untidy, glorious way. Back to work, eh.