The town where I work is having their Harvest Fair tomorrow and my boss sent out one final text to try to guilt us into going. The hospital has a booth every year, but none of us ever want to go. For me, weekends are the only time I get to do any projects around the house and this weekend we're working on my rotting garage roof. Can't guilt me, lady.

This is what the bad spot looks like after my boyfriend ripped the shingles off. We're just cutting out the worst spots and putting thick plywood in the holes. Times like this I wish my dad was still with us for guidance. He'd be proud of the attempt though.