Slave Labor

Last weekend was like slave labor camp at our house. I volunteered to be Jim's assistant for the weekend, which ended up involving lifting, loading, unloading, and carrying large amounts of sheetrock from the Home Dep to the second floor; cutting and filing potentially toxic Wonderboard; spending most of my Sunday on the roof installing an exhaust fan; as well as a list of various other small projects involving physical labor and dirt.

I was really nervous to about the roof project. I'm not necessarily afraid of heights, but I am afraid of falling from the roof because I am clumsy and inept. I lack confidence in areas of balance and coordination. Getting onto the roof involved climbing a ladder, scaling over to the shed roof, them leaping onto the garage roof. That's three separate opportunities for me to fall to my death...ok, I don't think I would actually die but still who wants to fall off the roof!? It turned out to be a bigger problem getting down than up. I'll spare you the details but it was about 5 minutes of Jim giggling me with my feet tangling off the roof trying to figure out how to make my legs long enough to reach the shed roof without jumping, frog leaping, or bounding.

End result. After three attempts, the exhaust fan is installed and working, I conquered my fear of the roof, and proved my massive strength, agility, and bravery to my husband.