The Ladders Don't Necessarily Scare Me...It's The Heights

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.

Done...Looks Almost Like New

For years, we've lived in a two-tone colored house. The colors were a green-ish gray and a lighter greenish-gray. It wasn't painted that way--it twas painted all the same color...

But that was seventeen years ago.

A lot can happen in seventeen years, like wear and tear, winds, but the biggest cause of our two-tone house was the sun. That southwest side of our house just begged for sunlight to do its worst. 

And it did.

What a difference a week makes.

I know I post a lot of pictures about our house. It's a special building for me. We designed it, put in a TON of sweat equity, and have lived here for almost two decades. We raised our kids in this house, celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, even an engagement.

A home is more than the structure itself. It's also a reflection of the people who live inside. It represents their loves, their fears, their hopes and dreams. It becomes part of us, of who we are.

And now, ours is one-tone (unless you don't count the trim...). Thank you Five Star Painting--you did a fantastic job!

A Room With A View...Sort Of

We drove up to the house just as the sun was setting, the orange and red sky to the west called to me to take its picture. The sun had dropped below the tree line so I went inside the house and opened the blinds to the door facing west.

I saw plastic.

Then I remembered...every door we're not using, every window on the house is covered in plastic. No, we're not getting our house fumigated. We're getting it painted. After seventeen years, it's needed.

It's a strange sensation, expecting something to happen and then it doesn't. It's exactly like going into a room when the power is out and flipping on the light even though you know the light will not go on.

The first day they washed the house. Yesterday and today they prepped it, masking off the windows and doors, and hopefully, tomorrow they'll begin the painting.

 I know as long as there's plastic on the windows and doors I'll continue looking out those windows and doors expecting to see a clear view, but the view I'll see will not be clear. That's just how it goes sometimes.