Possumblog

Why, yes--

I DID survive!

In fine fettle, as well.

Although there are other stories to tell, the one involving the most potential for disaster went off without incident.

Got to the high school yesterday right at noon, found my man, and found that I indeed would be required to get on the roof--but only because he needed help himself. The plan was to get up on the lowest roof in the courtyard, pull the ladder up after us, get on the next higher roof over the lobby, pull the ladder up after us, then get on the high roof of the gym. Easy, right? Especially for me, since we didn't have time for me to go home and change into my clambering-onto-roof clothing--I still had on my suit from church. (Although I did casual it up by removing my coat and tie.)

ANYway, got the 16ft folding ladder set up, up I went, over the edge, up he came, over the edge, then we pulled it up. "Now--I sure hope we don't drop it when we go to get back down, or we might be up here for a while!"

I really didn't want to hear that, even in jest.

We walked over to the lobby roof, and just as he was about to set up the ladder again, I spotted my prize, still on the lowest roof! Hooray! It had drifted all the way over the gym and landed on the backside on the roof of the courtyard. Had it drifted about ten more feet, it would have landed IN the courtyard and all of this ladder business would have been completely unnecessary. But, no big deal.

Getting down was worst psychologically, because we had to let the unfolded ladder back down over the roof edge onto the sidewalk below. One slip, and the ladder--or one of us--could follow it right down. And the bad thing was, it wasn't a long enough fall to make the ending mercifully quick--it was just far enough to where it would have hurt like a--like...uhh...like falling off a sixteen foot high roof onto concrete.

BUT, no drama. Ladder down, along with the custodian and a very grateful chubby guy in a suit. Did I mention how very much I hate getting on roofs? One of the things I absolutely hated about being in private practice was having to get up on roofs and do inspections, and I could live happily for the remainder of my days without ever getting on another roof. Somehow, I have an idea that won't happen.

After we got home last night (it was a long day) the rocket looked okay, but the film cartridge was messed up and wouldn't advance, so after much mucking about with it, I completely tore it up, meaning whatever two pictures it might have had on it are now lost.

Oh well.

At least I didn't crack my big head open.

SO--more stories of the weekend later, including such fascinating tales as Stupid Gnawing Tree Rats, Painting the Mailbox, Lawnmower Disassembly Made Frustrating, Father's Day Presents, &tc--but I have junk to get done this morning, whether I want to or not, so that comes first.

See you in a bit.

Posted by Terry Oglesby at June 19, 2006 08:07 AM