Life Goes On Read Online Free PDF

Muldock’s roof had sprung a leak. He’d covered the entire roof with blue plastic sheets until the weather was warm enough to reshingle the roof, which he still hasn’t gotten around to doing. Kyle Weathers is his neighbor and thought about complaining to Bill, but then he’d have had to fill in the hole in his own yard from when the sewer pipe had burst the year before.
    Bill had read in a magazine about a new type of roofing material that can be sprayed on using a garden hose, and he’s waiting for Uly Grant to order it in at the hardware store. Kyle isn’t filling in the hole because he’s been thinking of putting in an ornamental pond in that very spot, just as soon as he has time.
    I would be the same way if Barbara didn’t step in and finish the jobs I’d started. As a result, she is well versed in home repair and can often be seen in Grant’s Hardware buying plumbing innards and various tools. I hear about it whenever I visit the Coffee Cup.
    â€œSay, Sam, I saw your wife buying duct tape last week. What’d you mess up this time?”
    After painting the first level of our home, I decided it would be less embarrassing to hire Ernie Matthews to finish the job than it would be for the Coffee Cup men to drive past, see my wife perched on the ladder, paintbrush in hand, and taunt me for the remainder of my life.
    So in late May I stopped by Ernie’s house. I’d never been inside Ernie’s house before, and seeing it in person didn’t increase my confidence in his abilities. The screen was torn out of the front door and the floor of the porch was rotted through. Even before I crossed the porch, I detected an unpleasant odor. I knocked on the door.
    â€œWho is it?” Ernie yelled from inside the house.
    â€œIt’s me, Sam Gardner.”
    â€œOh, come on in, Sam. But watch where you step. Haven’t had time to clean things up this week.”
    From the looks of it, Ernie hadn’t had time to clean things up for several years. Cages were stacked around the living room and kitchen. Ernie was seated on the couch, wedged between two cages, a TV remote control in his hand, which he was jabbing vigorously in the direction of the television.
    â€œHey, Sam.”
    â€œHi, Ernie,” I said in a strained voice, trying not to breathe.
    â€œWhat’s up?”
    â€œJust wanted to know if you could maybe paint the top half of my house.”
    â€œI’m not doing much painting these days,” Ernie said. “Been too busy.” He continued working the remote control, cycling through the stations. “I’m in the ferret business. Wanna buy a ferret?”
    â€œNot right now,” I said. “Maybe later.”
    â€œSo how come you just want the top half of your house painted?” Ernie asked.
    â€œUh, well, I did the bottom part myself. But I’m not so good on ladders.”
    Ernie thought for a moment, then looked around, surveying his ferrets. “I got my hands full here, what with all my corporate interests, but maybe I could finish paintin’ your house. But I got to warn you, I sent Oprah a picture of me and my ferrets and if she calls and wants us on her show, we’re off to Hollywood.”
    â€œI’m willing to take that chance. Could you start tomorrow?”
    â€œDon’t see why not.”
    The next morning, Ernie still hadn’t arrived by the time I was ready to leave for work. “Have him start on the front of the house first,” I told Barbara. At any given time, Ernie was painting three or four houses in town, moving from one to the other as the mood struck him. If he painted the front first, it would look nice from the street for the remaining two months it took him to finish the job.
    I phoned at noon to see if Ernie had started.
    â€œHe’s here,” Barbara reported. “And I told him to start on the front of the house, just like you said. But something