Thoughts from the scaffold

I’m just in from several hours standing on a crate perched on a semi-scaffold (one of those ultra-bendy ladders that can be positioned to function as a scaffold, though only to a certain height). And my, what one’s brain ponders when in that position (or maybe it was the lead paint fumes).

  • Do contractors in earthquake-prone areas have to take out special insurance in case there’s a quake while they’re, say, 30 feet up on a ladder?
  • You know the pigeon lady you see at the park? The one in my neighborhood did really well for herself and bought one of the cute bungalows across the street, so she doesn’t have to go to the park anymore. She just opens her front door periodically and tosses bird see out onto her concrete porch and steps. And the birds line her roof like icicles on the eaves of a house with ice dams.
  • I kept expecting Ralph Nader to come storming up the walk, petitioning to stop me from endangering myself with my unprofessional setup and the children with my scraping of lead paint on a windy day. I plant sunflowers, Ralph—lay off! (And I use heat to keep the chips big and containable, and I collect them in an old paint can and bring them to the household hazardous waste days, I vac with a HEPA filter too before going in.)

Must enjoy toasty shower and whiskey sour now.

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