A couple weekends ago, I was clearing a brush of poison ivy, a couple trees and other manly landscaping tasks when a Mercedes convertible pulls into my driveway. Normally, when that happens, the driver is lost and is making a U-turn. This driver actually got out of the car. Perhaps this person needs directions? I mentally put on my "thinking cap".
Speaking in a rather quick pace, the driver introduces himself (and for the life of me I cannot remember his name). He's in a hurry to go somewhere but felt compelled to stop by as he saw me outside. He knew my name and said that he was from a few houses down (a home that my wife and I had visited while it was on the market at the same time as ours was). His home is an 1850's blue colored Italianate styled house. I knew it rather well. He goes on to say that he was the new owner of it and started to list what he had done recently to it.
I am still in shock that he knew my name and cannot recount all the details of that conversation. Except one. He pointed to my roof and said that I needed to try this spray that will remove the black algae, lichen and moss that was growing on it. Bewildered by his sudden appearance and knowledge of me, I began recounting some stupid story regarding my roof, like a bumbling fool. "He knows my name, who is this guy?" I kept thinking.
Still in shock, he quickly leaves just as he had arrived.
As I return to my manly duties, I was trying to remember what the product he was explaining was. Something about "set it and forget it", like that TV infomercial at three in the morning. My brief visitor proclaimed that the product will help remove the organic growth and save my roof. I "google-d" what I thought he was talking about in order to help me recall what he had called it. I saw the name finally and I remembered. Spray and Forget.
As I wanted to take his warning of roof peril seriously, I visited my local hardware store and searched for the Spray and Forget display. There really wasn't one, but I eventually found it with an employee's help, hidden in the paint section. I saw the price and proclaimed an expletive. Around $40 for a 32 oz spray bottle that you hook to your garden hose. I suppose that if you use it, and it saves you from having to replace your roof prematurely, then $40 is a small price to pay. I purchased it with that concept in mind and ventured home.
Today, I took out my monster Little Giant Model 26 ladder. It's a beast and weighs 54 pounds! Getting it to work just right without reading directions is like poking a stick into a bees' nest. You know you're going piss someone off... and it's probably yourself.
I extended the ladder to it's max height to allow myself to reach the roof. Then, I realized that I put the ladder in the totally wrong location. Again, not reading the directions, I had to retract the ladder and pulled the side pins to condense the 54 pounds of aluminum. That's when it happened. The ladder slipped, and like a ram rod, fell on my foot. Though I was wearing boots, steel toed in fact, the ladder's pin-point mass hit just below the tongue and behind the steel toe. A couple of colorful four letters words were spoken, then I managed to hobble inside.
My loving wife procured pain killers, an ice pack, some food and water. I sat on the floor cradling my swollen foot, popped one Advil, ate and drank while holding that iced foot. I sat there for an hour until I manned up, and after watching a 5 minute video from Little Giant's website, tackled the ladder's relocation and sprayed that damn Spray and Forget roof treatment.
There really is no point to this post except that I felt compelled to share my pain. I plan on reviewing the Spray and Forget later on, when it's had time to work. For now, I lay in bed, cradling my gimp foot hoping I haven't broken it.
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| My hairy foot, 12 hours, one ice pack and 3 Advils later, after being hit by 54 pounds of aluminum. |
