Tall Tales

I suffer with severe motion sickness. On a scale of so-so to severe...I'm off the chart severe. I feel sick in the back seat of a car. I feel sick on a swing.

I absolutely cannot ride a merry-go-round.
CanNOT even watch a merry-go-round.
I hate to even say merry-go-round. See??
Even the words "Merry-----go----UGH"!
Okay, gotta stop...I hate that sound. It makes my ears feel hot. Just thinking of that thing can make me sick!

So when my all-wise husband suggested that I NOT paint my 18 foot high wall on the day tropical storm Eduard swept through...I should have listened!

But, who wants to pay 1 million bucks to hire a professional painter? Not me!! Why pay someone else to do what I am perfectly capable of doing myself! Or so I thought.

I tucked my rebellious thoughts deep inside, where I thought they wouldn't show, and scurried my husband out the door for work. He was determined to go in spite of the storm. Painting was JUST the thing to take this worry off my mind.

He had already helped me put together the two-platform scaffolding I had brought home for the job. All I had to do is climb up, up, up, up, up...look down...oooh! NOT a good idea! Oh God! Deep breath! Think of good things like coffee. Ice cream. New shoes. Being skinny again.

Suddenly, I saw myself lying on the floor (far below) at a twisted angle and my kids ripping through my purse for the cell phone (which is at the very bottom, of course) to call 911! That did it! Down, down, down, down I came and off to Lowe's to buy 18 galvanized-steel cement screws. I came home and inserted these into 18 extra holes to reinforce the platforms.

Feeling extremely proud of myself...how many women would think to buy galvanized-steel cement screws? I climb back up to my lofty perch to begin again.

I forgot about one thing.
I have severe motion sickness.

I was working way up next to the tallest window on my 18 foot wall. I was as tall as the trees in my back yard, swaying with Eduard's winds. Back and forth...back and forth...back and forth...my son bumped the scaffolding, creating motion under my feet.

Oh NO! Beads of sweat popped out on my upper lip, I fell to my knees on the top platform, gripping the sides with sweaty hands and white knuckles. I placed my head to my knees in effort to stop the swaying. I could not have climbed down off that thing if someone had paid ME 1 million bucks! I was terrified...and the feeling of falling would not stop!

My kids had never seen Mom quite so frightened, so they called Dad to come home and rescue Mom from the top of the scaffolding. I could hear my husband's laughter clear up in the rafters...literally!

I stayed up there, like a stuck cat, for 45 minutes till my Tarzan came and rescued me. He really could've...but he didn't...say "I told you so." But we did call the professional painter the very next day and paid him 1 million bucks to come paint the dumb wall.

At one point, I looked way up to check his progress, and with the unsteady motion of the scaffolding he was swaying back and forth...back and forth...back and forth...Ugh!

I left the room and found a cup of hot coffee to console myself...and my check book. We were both a bit distressed.