Both the spousal unit and I have a tendency towards never doing today what we can do a week from Tuesday, just before dark.

And so it is that we are racing the snow to get a new roof put on the porch section of the house.

My part of "we" involves me occasionally handing wood and other assorted building materials up to the spousal unit. His part of "we" involves him being up in this stupidly high place doing complex calculations, and mass quantities of carpentry which often involves dangling acrobatically on rafters.

Oh, and I also watch weather forecasts a lot and wave my arms over towards the mountains across the valley from us which have had snow dusting their tops for the last few mornings.

Yes, I am THAT helpful.

We built this house in the mid-1970's, which means it originally had the shed roof that was so wildly fashionable during that time period. Back when we were designing the house, my father-in-law told us we were making a terrible mistake going with that kind of roof because it would not have a steep enough pitch to shed snow.

We see a lot of snow here in the mountains in our corner of the Eastern Townships of Quebec. There are three major ski hills within a half hour drive of us. But, being young and completely and utterly certain of ourselves, we pooh-poohed his concerns.

As a result, the spousal unit spent many, many winters shoveling snow off this roof because, as his father predicted, it did not shed snow well.

Well, the spousal unit and I are not getting any younger and I worry about him doing such hard and dangerous work--after all, he is woefully underinsured, and without a ginormous Wad o' Insurance Money I would not be able to play The Merry Widow--so two years ago he replaced the main roof.

No more shoveling, except ... except for the porch roof.

He decided to change that this spring. About five months ago. So here we are now about ten minutes before winter racing to get it done, because sometimes just before dark a week from Tuesday can stretch out a bit, depending on how the space-time continuum is working.

Stuff like this used to make me crazy. There was a time when we were in our early 30's when we came within millimeters of divorce because I was fed up with living in the chaos of a perpetually unfinished project.

See, here's the deal. I had never, ever in my life seen anyone remotely like my spousal unit when I was growing up in southwestern Ontario, in a sea of tidy little tract homes on neatly maintained half acre lots.

He grew up here where we live now. He understood exactly what would be involved in living here, but me, I had this romantic notion of what it would be like to live in a log cabin in the woods, both of us being self-employed, thumbing our noses at The Man.

Then about five years into living here I found out that you can take the girl out of the 'burbs, but sometimes you can't take all of the 'burbs out of the girl. Being self-employed means income is precarious at times. I wanted to be a free spirit, but a free spirit with a steady income in a charming, completely finished, immaculately landscaped handmade home.

I know. I, too, have an irresistible urge to start singing, "Ground Control to Major Tom ... "

The spousal unit spends something in the order of 35 hours a week as a carpenter renovating other people's homes. The last thing he wants to do when he comes home is to pick up a hammer and continually work on ours. For him, this place is a labour of love. He sees it as an evolving project, not as a duty, and works on it as the spirit moves him.

For a very long time I didn't understand that.

I was lucky. We found a marriage counselor who helped us see ourselves as we really are, and not just who we think we are. She also taught us the proper way to fight, which might seem a given, but there are times when you forget to keep the um, er, ah "frank and open discussions" to the matters at hand and not drag in grievances from oh, say, ten years ago.

Eventually the new roof will be finished. Eventually the siding will go on under its new gables. Eventually the new soffits will be enclosed. I know that.

It's just that sometimes I wish that just before dark a week from Tuesday came a little quicker.

--Marn

P.S.--The International Cavorting Day Hall of Fame is open. You, too, could be part of an institution that's just like the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame except that it doesn't involve music, Ohio, talent or an actual building.

Otherwise, they are remarkably alike.

Celebrate the notion that we should all have one day in our lives when we are free to celebrate a jolt of spontaneous happiness.

Post a button or post a link to the cavorting site and become enshrined! See yourself right up there on the screen!

Make a rubbing of your name!

Oh. Wait. Maybe that last bit wouldn't work. Nevermind that part, 'kay?

Today's inductees into the Hall o' Fame are:

The first ten cavorters who entered the Hall of Fame I have dubbed The Mothers And Fathers of Cavorting. Don't worry, this does not involve messy blood tests, paternity cases OR child support. However, each time I update, I will feature one of them.

Cavorting has a large, loving, extended family of aunts and uncles, too, though, and it would be just wrong not to celebrate their wonderfulness, too.

And now, can I have a drum-roll, please, for Today's Cavorting Aunt's and Uncles: