Yesterday we got nearly 7 inches of rain with terrific winds swirling around the house. This morning there are little branches from the neighbors trees in our yard and the new Chinese pistache out front was bent way over. The underground stream running through the backyard will be flowing for the rest of the season!
As the winds roared I thought about leaks. Two winters ago a small dampness appeared in the NE corner ceiling. When I tried to assess the damage I saw a vent in the shallow eave very near the wet spot and imagined the rain swirling into the opening, soaking the insulation and gradually dripping down through the drywall. I enjoy standing in the laundry porch watching the gusts of rain switching directions, but worried about it getting in the vent. Then last winter it bloomed into an ugly patch of mildew over 2′ across. It had been my youngest’s room, now used as a guest room. I tried not to look at it all winter, but the image of the rain swirling up into the vent every time it rained nagged me.
So mid morning had I started worrying out loud about that vent that we still hadn’t done anything to block it. And my dear DH looked at me through bleary flu clouded eyes and said, “Remember it was the flashing around the electrical pole where it comes through the roof. We put roof tar on it last spring.”
DUH. That’s right. Last spring when we checked out the situation we discovered that my concern for the vent was mistaken. We just pulled out the roof tar and fixed the leak so fast it was completely forgotten. But the memories of the worry lived on and were front and center when it started to rain again.
Memories playing tricks on me. If I am so easily deluded, I think others may be too.
ETA: I posted my remembrance of “the painting” debacle a couple months ago.