Dad tried to kill me...

Oh, forgot to tell you all this one. It is a dooze-


Dad's been wanting me to paint the garage door trim and a couple other area's of facia outside of his townhouse due to the association getting up in arms over some chipping. He assured me that it was only going to be 20 minutes worth of work (A very "dad" thing to say. Dad-time tends to stretch out a bit longer than his initial estimations, so I made the appropriate calculation's in my brain. 20 minutes ='s 4 hours. You need to account for the griping.) He also insisted that he needed my 26 foot extension ladder, which I didn't understand why since a platform or step ladder would have been just fine for the garage if my memory served correctly. I can't remember the architecture of their TH specifically, and the way he was describing it was impossible for me to understand where exactly we were going to be painting. I just figured it was close to terra firma.

Oh no.

He wanted me up on the roof to reach the facia and HE would do the garage door trim. He was sure that I could get up on the roof, scramble up to the top story and lean over the side to paint it. (On the peak, so there really isn't a place to "lay" down. The peak looks like this and is about as steep- " /\ "and I would be at the point. Dig?)

I balked and said no.

He then extended the ladder the full length and precariously set it on the top most gable over the entryway, which is about 26 ft up so now he's playing to my fear of falling. To make things better and to make sure that the tips are not too low-he sets it next to a paper wasp nest. (Fear of wasps is met as well. And you know, it's Fall, so they're aggressive due to temperature changes. I watch two furiously flying at each other and sting at the same time. Exxxxcellent) I ask for the wasp spray-("NO! You'll stain the siding!!!") I ask for the paint bucket to carry up with me. ("NO! You'll spill it on the way up!!! I'll bring it to you") So I tentatively crawl up the ladder, which is shaking and bowing in as extension ladders are wont to do when they are at full extension. Dad's below me shouting encouragement, cajoling, and lastly outright insults. ("What the hell, Kiddo?!?! You used to climb all the time when you were a kid!?!?")

When he follows me up the ladder (And my old man is big. The ladder is rated for 300 lbs. And every rung he takes causes the ladder to shake violently... while I'm 26 feet in the air.) with the paint, then down, then back up the brush. All while wasps are periodically lighting on my face. I take a deep breath decide not to focus on where I was and let my mind go. I see the giant decorative window and figure if the ladder (which is only barely leaning against the trim) I'm going through that sucker. Deep breath number two and I start painting.

I succeed in painting myself into the gable before returning to terra firma. I refrained from kissing the asphalt) Next, he wants me up on the garage roof to paint the small chipped fascia at the peak. He's trying to be all MacGuyver about it ("I could set up one ladder, then set up the other one on top of it like an upside down "L" and I'll sit on it for counter balance"- Me: "F#ck no")

Then he just sends me up there, assuring me that my grip would be fine. Except it wasn't. I was clinging on to the roofing with my knee's locked and I could barely shimmy up. I couldn't get three points contacting the roof while holding the paint and my shoes were doing nothing to propel me forward. I felt my body slide back and I locked my legs tighter, feeling the skin on my inner knee, palms, and elbows abrasing. Tummy too.

I tried one last valiant attempt at going forward when my shoe kicked into air and had no traction, aaaaand I slid down towards the side of the roof but finally stopped myself on the gutter with my foot and shouted "F#ck this" and got back down. The first thing my Dad said was to watch my language, then asked if I damaged the gutter, and finally he hoped that I didn't spill any paint on the shingles. My stomach was in knots, I could feel blood seeping through my sweatpants, and I wanted to kick him in the shins. And then he said- "Okay. We're done for today"

Anyway, it kind of got me over my fear of falling. And wasps. We were cooling down in the back yard and yellowjackets were lighting on me and my glass of wine and I was like "meh".

Fear is the mindkiller.