HouseWorks: Fear of falling on my mind
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By STEVE BATIE / Lee Newspapers
Friday, June 1, 2007 10:41 AM CDT
LINCOLN, Neb. -- I was sitting on my roof the other day, contemplating the state of the neighborhood.
It’s worth mentioning, I suppose, that I do not commonly sit on my roof.
Being deathly afraid of, well, death and all.
Whenever I’m atop anything much higher than my head, I’m pretty much convinced beyond all logic that even if I do not tumble to my death, I surely will tumble to great injury, which might actually be worse.
I mean, if you’re dead, the hurting stops. Right? At least that’s what I’m banking on. But did you ever consider that we might be all wrong about that? What if the hurting goes right on?
That’s the sort of contemplating I do when I’m on a roof.
Spooky, huh?
Anyway, there I was on the roof, resting up from having just cleaned a forest’s worth of maple seeds out of my gutters and dreading the precarious climb down the ladder.
I don’t know about you, but I find it a whole lot easier to get from ladder to roof than from roof to ladder.
I’ve analyzed it (that’s another thing I do when I’m on the roof and dreading the climb down), and I realize I will be making precisely the same moves in getting down the ladder as I made getting up it.
Just in reverse, right?
Doesn’t help.
There are times when intellect goes right out the window and pure instinct takes over.
Like riding a bike.
Or shifting gears.
You don’t have to think about it because the body knows.
I guess when it comes to ladders, my body just refuses to learn.
But that’s not what I was thinking about that day while I was sitting on the roof of the house.
I was thinking about how the neighborhood looks from up there.
It’s all very lush and green, thanks to the flooding rains we had last month.
(Despite the crusty soil I can see in my garden, I know there’s still nothing but mud two inches down. I hope the potatoes are OK.)
Right now, before the trees have completely leafed out, you can still see the houses below.
From the roof you can see the repairs one neighbor made to his roof where rain (remember I mentioned those May showers?) worked its way down into places where it wasn’t supposed to be. Like the living room.
From the roof you can see the park, where city workers already have strung tennis nets on the courts where no one volleys and spiffed up the playground where few children play and mowed FOUR times this season. Surely a new record, possibly timed to please a new mayor, even though he lives nowhere near this park.
From the roof you can see the new retaining wall I finally got built in my own front yard - as well as the empty spaces shrubs and groundcovers are supposed to fill … although I suppose I’m the only one who knows just how incomplete the project remains.
From the roof you can see the neighbors’ freshly tilled gardens still free of weeds and their freshly sheared lawns still striped with mower tracks.
From the roof you can see bicycle riders and dog walkers and the occasional skateboarder who’s discovered our little hill. You can see the crows strafing the backyard and the bunnies who would be hiding if they knew I was watching them.
Now and then you can even see the red-tailed hawks.
Though seldom when you can see the bunnies.
I like the hawks.
Anyway, that’s the sort of stuff I contemplate while I’m sitting sitting on my roof.
It takes my mind off the climb down.
Send your home repair and remodeling questions to: HouseWorks, P.O. Box 81609, Lincoln, NE 68501, or e-mail: houseworks@journalstar.com.
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