It was a biggish whump, Sir.

So a notable but not historically significant windstorm took its toll on my husband's shop last week. And now it continues to thump me over the head every day as I am the designated insurance-husband-contractor-husband-restoration-insurance-husband liaison in our family. (Did you know that was possible? Everyone has their roles, suited or not.)

See those orange-ish sticks of wood? Yeah. Those're 2x12s, I'm told, and part of the essential, um, rafter thingamajigs that hold up the roof. I don't mean to get all technical on you but it's been a highly educational week. **Edited to add: My quality control officer, AKA my husband, said they are actually 2x8s. He also said I might want to remember my big following of construction types who would know and think less of me for not knowing. That was him being funny; please remember he's an engineer. **

I almost forgot to mention my copious interaction with the utility companies. After the big (tree-size) branch whumped on the shop, it sent a few smaller but still-big-enough-to-weigh-down-power-lines branches. It only took four phone calls to the power company to let them know we couldn't leave our front door before they showed up to tighten the lines. "That's a big tree, Ma'am." Don't these people know that the late 30s are the new late 20s? I (with four children underfoot and a burgeoning tummy region containing number five) am clearly due a "Miss." Under the circumstances. **Edited to add: I didn't need my quality control officer to tell me that this sounded vain and, um, snarky. Yikes. That 40-something, hard-working lineman can call me Ma'am all he wants and I'll complain not. Thank you is what I'm trying to say.**

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And I'm not saying all these construction and restoration folks aren't busy. I know they are. What with the massive amount of building going on in the current economy (heavy sarcasm is not my best feature but I hope you caught that) it's hard for an estimate to get done on time. On the first or third request. My favorite contractor asked me to describe, in detail, over the phone, the materials that needed replacing. Then he wanted me to name the construction style of the shop. Pole barn? Um... Stick-built but metal sided? Sorry, Sir, but ... let me tell you, this is not my specialty. Good thing it's yours.

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We mustn't forget the insurance adjuster. I am quite clear that our damages are not in any way to compare with some other disasters that might be covered by homeowners' insurance. And I'm grateful for that. But my favorite thing about the insurance adjuster was how I specifically told everyone with whom I spoke that our road does not appear on Google maps. He and his hybrid car and its GPS system knew better and were therefore a little late after being a little lost and doing a little unintended four-bying in some offroad mud near us. What a nice guy, though. He remarked that the contractors, even the one he sent, would surely work for his estimate since none had turned one in a full week after the storm.

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Huh.

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I guess I should relax a little.