Ladders
Something about gravity and ladders that don't work well with me. Maybe it's because the only time I've ever broken a bone (knocking on wood as I type...) was when I was either a pre-teen or a new teenager, while picking cherries I was on top of a very tall ladder and it opened up sending me crashing to the ground. My arm--my right arm I believe--was broken. Since then, me and ladders have had a rocky relationship.
It's not the ladders, but the heights. I'd say I have a fear of heights, not a disabling one, but it's there. The thought of not being on the ground where--in my mind--there's security causes that wrap in my gut. I admit it. And I've lived with it for almost fifty-five years.
Then, add a ladder, which usually has an unsteady foundation anyway, and that's when things come together. This past couple of weeks, we've had painters, professional painters, paint our house. It's something we considered doing ourselves, but the thought of climbing a ladder to reach the top of our 30 or so foot tall home gives me the willies. On breaks from work I would walk past the painters and both marvel and cringe at their skill. But, they pulled it off and it looks beautiful.
We didn't have the painters do the entire house--we saved the back deck for ourselves. We thought it would be easy, and compared to the rest of the house, it was. Still, it required time and energy.
And a ladder.
I used the ladder to paint the bottom of the deck from below. I was not 30 feet up, more like 10. I can work with 10. After two coats, it turned out pretty good.
I still marvel at the pros who can scale ladders with ease and seemingly, without fear. I hope they get paid well. It's something I wouldn't do.
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