Or, at least not until this morning. We were startled awake by the loud, repeated impact of hail on the roof. Our perfect new roof we'd prefer not to replace just yet. The hail storm is supposed to come when your shingles are worn out and you want the insurance to pay, right?
Both cars were parked outside. Yesterday we put the last coat of spray paint on the bed frame for the guest room, and it still took up the entire garage, drying. In the time it took to dismantle the frame, for Timothy to find his keys and pull his truck in, and for me to give up on finding my keys, spew the contents of a box across the dining room, and find my spare key, the hail had stopped. Fortunately it was small enough (mothball-sized) that there was no damage. The keys were in the garage, where I had left them while painting.
There's another menace lurking in the neighborhood, waiting to eat dogs, small children, and joggers on the hike-and-bike trail that winds through the southwest greenway (thanks for the photo, Dad!) Its abdomen is full of iridescent eggs. Soon nowhere will be safe from giant metal spiders!
