One of the thrills of mountain living is that we get more snow than flatlanders.

And more snow.
And more snow.

Everyday I get up look at the roof and wonder, "When is that going to melt?"

Then I think, melt? There is so much of it it's going to melt right into the house.

The other night my favorite chef motions to me, finger poised to his lips. No he doesn't want a kiss.

It's a sssshhhh motion.

Then we heard it.

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

Oh gawd. It's coming in the house.
I looked at the ceiling and noticed the lovely paint job I had done on the walls was noticeably stained. The picture window was leaking on the picture window frame.

We scrambled to find containers, and paper to absorb unwanted moisture.
That refrain, "Yeah, but we need the moisture," after a snowfall fell on grouchy ears.

I checked other areas of the house. Oh, whoopeee, the hardwood floor in second son's bedroom is soaking wet, walls are so stained. The curtain rod has little droplets on it.

This, is one of those homeowner moments.
The kind that makes you not feel so good to be a homeowner.

It requires the use of a pen and a checkbook, so that's what I did the next day.