Boots and ladders

We painted the house almost two months ago.  And never got around to finishing.  October set records for rainfall in Arkansas and the periodic days of sunshine were so spaced out that we never had enough consecutive days to let the brick dry.
Neighbors were beginning to wonder.

We were 'those people.' You know, the ones who dig up the flower bed and then leave it until next fall?  Gag.  We didn't want to be 'those people.' It just happened.
So, this weekend, it was sunny.  Like gorgeous-sunshine-and-lollipops sunny.  And we finished painting.  Mind you, we just finished the two sides that we started (The other two sides will require the use of a sprayer).  But the front is done and from the point of view of people driving by, the house is painted.
We have a crazy awesome ladder.  It's telescopic and fold flat or in half.  And it's soooooo heavy.  I would know, I drug it around the house edging the ceiling/top of the wall.  Of. Every. Room!
At its tallest, it's 22 feet long.

 So, this is me, standing on the ladder.  I yelled to Brad, "Get the camera!"

"Why?"

"Cause I have nothing to talk about on my blog!"

"Fine."

He also took an entirely too close-up photo of my butt where I ripped the jeans. (not during this project, but previously).  I will not subject you to that, mostly, because I deleted it immediately.

Brad was on the ground.  Partially because he is afraid of heights but also because he had 'a plan.'
If HE were to fall, I couldn't catch him.  But, if I were to fall, he didn't think he could catch me, but he could break my fall and worse case, we end up with a broken limb or two but no death.
Yeah.

So, as I stand precariously on the third rung from the top.  Left foot on the rung, right foot on the roof (!) Brad was yelling up to me, "You can buy whatever you want!"

And, I did.
But, that's tomorrow.