You’d think that lolling about being ill at home wouldn’t lend itself to thrilling awesomeness. You’d be wrong.
The night was last night*. The time: 7:15pm. The taste: sustagen and milk for dinner (again). The flavour: vanilla.
I was watching yet another Spicks and Specks re-run when it was interrupted by a bang above me. Was it a giant bird with a serious lack of direction? Was it a poopsicle (frozen faeces dropped from a plane)? Was it superman having a REALLY bad day?
“Meh,” I thought.
And that was when I glanced back towards the TV and asked myself the question, “Didn’t the ceiling used to be parallel to the floor?”
I called out for CJ.
“What is it?” he called back.
“The roof is falling in!”
“What?!” He hurried up the stairs and assessed the damage in about 0.2 of a second. The ceiling was making that crinkling sound glass makes when it hasn’t finished breaking. There was a clear crack between the kitchen and living room areas, marking the boundary where one-quarter of our ceiling was 30cm lower than usual. “Get out,” he said.
CJ placed the larger fish tank on the floor and moved the smaller one downstairs. I forced the cats outside and then mangled my laptop trying to unplug it from the monitor too quickly as the roof fell another 10cm. We had to carry laptop and monitor downstairs still joined together. At the last moment I grabbed our camera and took these two pictures:
CJ turned off the power and we grabbed torches. Our bedroom lies directly below the collapsed section so I took our doona out and huddled up on the hallway floor, near the open front door. We called CJ’s Macgyver-like Dad and our electrician friend (who knows people). Our mirror-image neighbours also had an ominous ceiling, but not as dramatic. CJ’s Dad brought a bootload of wood to prop up the ceiling, and turned the power back on (but we left all the heaters off). CJ called the SES and they put him through to the fire brigade, who came at once with their sirens screaming.
It’s eerie to hear sirens coming and think, “Ah. That’ll be for us.”
Firemen poured forth from the giant truck in all their flourescent finery (are they ALL so broad-shouldered?) and all the menfolk talked in grave tones and prodded things in a knowledgable fashion (I’m assuming that part; I was downstairs). They concluded that the damage was caused by a pool of water sitting inside the roof, gradually weakening the ceiling until it collapsed. The damage was declared non-structural, which meant CJ and I didn’t have to immediately wander the streets begging for shelter**
On the down side, the ceiling (gyprock) may still fall down at any moment. Perhaps I should wear a helmet to breakfast.
CJ says the collapsed section is now safer than any other part of the ceiling. Here’s what he and his Dad did last night:
And how was YOUR Thursday night, my peeps?
*technically a few hours ago, since I’m writing this on Thursday night.
**also, we had three solid offers of beds from friends and relations.