Shingling a hipped roof

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

Recently my parents noticed a leak in their roof (townhouse in NY). They hired a roofing company to check. Their first estimate is $11,000 to replace shingles. My parents paid a $5000 deposit cash (god damn it, dumb as hell) and will pay $6000 after repair is done.
After removing shingles, the company says the wood under the shingle needs to be replaced. Shingle replacement is not enough, and then quoted me $25,000. (Understandable that scope has changed).
But we rather get another opinion/bid; we asked for the deposit back. The company refuses because they bought the material and already send some guys out (2 days of work for 3 guys). Alright, so we asked if we can get the material they bought. It's very obvious there was not 5k worth of work or material done. I asked for partial refund. They also refused material and partial refund and said we breached contract and they will keep our 5k deposit.
Now we're thinking to take them to small claims court. Has anyone had a similar experience? I kind of think we got scammed.

Roof was installed reasonably well, except the valleys. No metal, no ice & water and they left a few spots short with shingles. No tar under the cut side either which we always used to do to avoid wind damage. (It’s been 20 years since I put a roof on so I’m sure I’m outdated here at a minimum)
I’ve found leaks and am going to take the valleys out and put metal for sure and maybe and ice & water. Shingles are in good shape. They are a standard color from the big orange store.
Couple questions I’d appreciate opinions on from people who have repaired/replaced valleys. 1. Will new shingles standout? I’m guessing yes since no fade and batch colors change. 2. Is it feasible to just pull nails and preserve/reuse the shingles? Or am I going to end up tearing them up from the tar strip adhesion? 3. Would I need to fill all the old nail holes with tar if reusing?
Thanks!

I’m getting new insulation blown in to my attic by a professional. The only question is if I should vacuum out all the old cellulose over wood chip insulation first??
Two experts have told me two different things. One says take out the old stuff as I have a hip roof and height is a concern ( the inefficient wood chips are taking up height). The other says no worries, they can blow new stuff right over the old stuff.
I live in Alberta so cold is a factor. The soffit must remain clear to allow air flow. So in either case new baffles need to be installed to hold the insulation off the soffit. In the removal scenario I would also seal up all the light fixture penetrations and whatever else type of penetrations this 70 year old house has accumulated.
Possibly helpful additional details: I have no intention of moving anytime soon, and wish to significantly upgrade my old house’s insulation overall. Breaking down drywall and adding insulation there is in the future, for example.
So, Reddit insulation professionals: should I remove the old??
Thank you for sharing your expertise. While I’m good with vacuuming and sealing, I am not good with knowing when I have to vacuum it all out!

Hi all, I'm sorry if this question has been asked but ive gotten shingles in my 3rd trimester here, I'm at 32 weeks and I'm having unbearable pain, I spent a good 5 days crying ever since the.the blister formed and now it's all over the right side of my scalp... well yesterday the pain was too much, the doctor gave me two IV doses of dilaudid and now about 4 days worth of Oxy to help with the pain.. I feel like a terrible person doing this but my stress is through the roof, I wasn't sleeping... ans the Oxy doesn't work as good as the IV meds but am I doing the right thing? He gave them to me so the antiviral has time to work because I've taken 20 of those in two days so far, 24 counting today. I don't know when the antiviral will help it, I don't know when the pain will subside...
I'm so scared of harming the baby and they told me it's safe but what constitutes as safe? Am I going to get withdrawal within the 4 days even if taken as directed? It's 14 pills. Will that harm the baby? I'll probably ask my midwife as well but I wanted to see if anyone here has gone through the same troubles... he's been moving just fine and seems perfectly happy but god damn if I don't feel like a bad mom already.

As a home inspector, I need to show roof pitch in report photos. For example if a roof is less than 2/12 and has shingles. Is there a tool I can use that I can take a picture of for the report? Are the phone apps like Pitch Gauge accurate? I’d like it to look professional and taking a photo of my phone wouldn’t be my first choice.

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Black Bear Roofing & Exteriors understands that home improvement projects can be daunting. That’s why they prioritize clear communication, transparency, and collaboration throughout the entire process. From the initial consultation to the final inspection, they work closely with homeowners to understand their needs, provide expert guidance, and deliver solutions tailored to their unique preferences and budget.

Well I have shingles. (-100/10 don't recommend) It's effecting my right hip/leg. Which I think is preferable to people who have it on their upper body/face/arms etc. Except for the fact that I have a week old tattoo and 2 month old tattoo on that thigh. And I have a cluster starting right between the two of them that is slowing encroaching on my tattoos.
My main worry is that the blisters are going to mess up my tattoos. I assume there's got to be someone who has had shingles on their tattoos and can either reassure me they'll be fine or prepare me for the worst.

Hi all. We had a bad wind/rain storm and suffered some damage. We lost a bunch of shingles which they replaced our roof, but there was also water damage. We had water leaking into our dining room from the crown molding and behind the walls. Contractor says it’s the balcony that is causing the damage. We were told if this had been going on for some time without knowledge, worse case scenario, the outside wall of the house may need replacement as well. Between the exterior wall and the balcony we are looking at roughly $20k+, depending on severity of course.
We were approved for the wall to be replaced due to the water damage however, insurance is not covering the repair of the balcony and won’t if the exterior wall needs replacement. I am not understanding why they would fix the water damaged interior wall, but not the issue exterior. As well as, why not the balcony. It’s going to just leak back into the wall if not corrected. We just don’t have the funds or the means to cover the work. Has anyone encountered this before? Any advice on how to get both covered? Any info would be greatly appreciated!

Having a new roof installed (about 1/3 epdm flat portion and 2/3 shingles) and when they got into it, there was a lot of rotten fascia to deal with. I agreed to a significant change order to have the rotten fascia removed and replaced (and painted and new gutters) - today they got the flat roof on ahead of some rain and the windows directly underneath it all have water coming in them- water all over the place, only so much I can do with towels/fans/buckets on the floor below. Im assuming that taking the old roof off left the rotten fascia exposed in a way that’s letting water in, and they just haven’t gotten to that part yet.
Guy I hired is mortified and offered to come tarp it in the dark and rain- I told him please eat dinner and go to sleep, he’s been working long days and shit happens, I would rather have some water to clean up than having someone who just finished a series of 12 hour work days risk hurting themselves. That said, what’s a fair expectation here for him to fix? The windows that have water coming in are wood windows and soggy, the floors that are soggy needed refinishing anyways so that’s whatever, but the ceilings of the two rooms below the windows both have water stains and I had to poke holes to direct the water into buckets. Should I expect to be handling the aftermath on my end, since I told him not to worry about trying to fix it in the dark, or would that generally be something a roofer handles if the house is damaged in the course of their work?

Hi All- Had a new roof put on last week, GAF Timberline HDZ in Pewter Gray. Part of the project included install of 2 Velux solar venting skylights above finished space. Long story short, carpenter comes to trim the interior and is unable to because one of the two skylights that were installed is shifted to far to the right and trim of any thickness will block the screen making it non-removable. Screen is aligned to drywall on right side looking from inside house, with a 1+ in space between drywall and screen on the left side. The other skylight that is parallel to this one is seemingly perfectly centered.
Contractor came today and is recommending roofer come back Friday to pull the skylight and move it over 3/4in to an inch. Contractor has been supportive and has taken responsibility for sure. I was ecstatic with the roofer and their team otherwise. Left yard spotless, rows are perfectly level, etc.
Is this feasible? (Pull shingles, remove skylight, reposition and reinstall) Will it cause more damage to the rest of the brand new roof? Suffice it to say I'm a mix of very nervous and disappointed. Will appreciate any advice / opinions. Thank you!

We've been in our new home less than a year. It's a well-maintained 17 year old home in Western North Carolina (minimal disaster prospects).
We got a letter today from our insurance (Travelers) stating they were dropping us for the following reasons:
--Dwelling roof has granular loss shingles
--Inground pool has no automatic cover
--Dwellings are required to be insured at 100% of replacement cost. They estimated we were $500k underinsured.
I'm at a loss. The roof is 17 years old, but was inspected a year ago. We knew we needed to replace in a few years due to age, but the inspection report didn't note anything but age.
The pool is mind blowing to me. It is an inground pool surrounded by an aluminum fence. Why on earth do we need an automatic pool cover? (We do have a winter cover)
Our replacement cost was determined by our agent. I suspect they took the sales price - the value of the lot. This is the one thing I concede is probably necessary because I questioned it myself when we bought the policy, but was told our coverage was adequate.
What on earth is going on? We've never filed a claim in 12 years of being homeowners. There wasn't an option to increase coverage or change anything--they just said we would not be renewed in one month.
Anybody else getting letters like these?

Hi all so my attic is hot as hell 88outside 138 up by the ridge vents And I’m worried bout my shingles I have four right vents and the soffits with holes all around the house
The shingles where replaced 2 years ago the other where on 16 years with the same conditions which makes me think I don’t need to worry about it. Anyways somebody said a fan but I don’t want a hole cut in my roof what’s the options

New roof 4 months ago, new siding 3 months ago.
Noticed a large yellow spot near my vent on my 2 floor. After raining, the water started coming through the vent.
I called out my roofing company today. They brought me up to the 2nd floor and showed me holes in 4 different locations. They then asked if the spiders scaffolds. I said yes. They go that’s what we thought, then showed me all of the holes.
They said because they did not caulk the holes, water began seeping in.
There are 3 (I initially saw 2) deck boards that are now darker than the rest. During the rain, they are wet.
What’s a reasonable ask? That the siding company pay for new shingles in those locations? What about the decking? Do I need to worry about it getting wet for 4 months?
What about the insulation (which is wet)? Finally, what about the drywall?
Is it likely my siding company will pay for all of this? If not, do I need to file a claim so that my insurance company will fight their company?
Thanks.