An Ode to Summer Attics(and those who enter them)
For those not in the Inspection business you may not understand,
for in the attics, the brave Inspectors dare to trek, through no man's land.
After all, there's no better place in the world to be,
than in an attic, when the outside temperature is 93.
Trudging through heaps of insulation is such a good feeling,
always hoping and praying, not to put a foot through the ceiling.
For each step, could be the last we take,
when we hear that fateful snap of drywall break.
By the time we get to one side, you can always bet,
that we're tired, frazzled, and covered in sweat.
You can't see much anyway, you come to realize,
because the gallons of salty brine, stinging the eyes.
But rubbing the eyes to try and see, will only add to your frustration,
'cause now you've got two sweaty eye sockets, packed with insulation.
So blindly moving on, and wearily pushing ahead,
hoping not to get impaled by a roofing nail in the head.
And to keep ourselves cleaner, we must wear a coverall suit,
and that extra layer, in an oven-like attic, is always a hoot.
Keep in mind outside it may be 93 you see,
but up here in the rafters, its more like two hundred and three.
And without the coveralls, insulation sticks to your sweaty body like glue,
And out of the attic would exit a wookie, instead of you.
Then there's the moment when you have a picture to snap,
but when the flash goes off, all you see is a screen full of floating crap.
Because traversing around, all the wonderful dust gets stirred up in the air,
that makes the Inspector cry, "Man, this just isn't fair!
So you wait and wait and wait for the dust to settle,
while basting in gallons of smelly sweat, like stew in a kettle.
Perspiring profusely, cursing under your breath,
waiting for a certain and untimely death.
You think to yourself, why did I choose this profession again?
surely an Accountant or Teacher or Realtor :) would bring me more Zen.
You finally get your photo, and start heading back then,
ahhh fiddlesticks, another defect, means another pic & starting over again.
So you roll your eyes and mutter to yourself, "Who built these digs?"
perhaps the middle porker, from the Three Little Pigs.
Finally its time to get out, and get some fresh, cool air,
oh how you must look, and smell, to everyone there.
Hair a mess and soaked to the core, but you must think brighter,
they might not recognize you, cause you're twenty pounds lighter.
And hey, you're all done too! And just as a smile starts on your face,
you suddenly realize, you still have the crawlspace!
But alas, you press on, for there's surely more wonderful things to see,
Oh man, the life of an Inspector, it's only for me...
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