Mister has been talking about taking down the monstrosity of a satellite dish that has been on the house since before he bought it. It’s never used, and it really needed to be removed. He disappears after lunch and the next thing I know, he’s on a ladder getting ready to take it down! Good grief!!
He knows I don’t like for him to be up there without me… Not for any other reason than to be available to call 911 in case he falls off the roof. Nice, supportive wife, huh?! I also tend to be rather handy in the “can you get me this tool” department. I was doing great until he said the dreaded words…
“I think I’m gonna need you up here.”
Ummm… you do? For really-reals?! Mister knows I will do anything and everything in my power to help him. Even if that means swallowing my
fear terror of heights and ladders. I got up there, and even took a picture as proof that I made it up there safely. I blinked back my big old cry-baby tears (thank goodness my sunglasses were on), and white-knuckled it. Until he had to get down off of the roof and go get a tool. Then the tears snuck out and all of a sudden my eyes were leaking all over the place. He came back and said I’d actually be more help down on the ground which was a HUGE relief. It also immediately brought me to my next hurdle. Getting OFF of the roof.
Poor Mister felt bad that I even got up there, and I felt horrible that I was absolutely NO help. Rather, more like a burden because he had to deal with a terrified woman on the roof. We ended up safely removing the monstrosity, and he didn’t fall off doing it either. When all was said and done, Mister says…
“So who got that wild hair up their butt?!”
Not me, that’s for sure!!
Surviving my dash…