Dear Lord, please control my wild hairs
Published 5:11 pm Tuesday, August 4, 2015
I had not taken the hint. Many well-meaning people, perhaps even entrepreneurs of a kind, had stopped by my house and asked, “Would you like me to clean off your roof?”
To me, I saw a few leaves and a pine straw or two and would answer, “Thanks, but not today.”
All that changed last week when I was getting my mail from the box and a nice lady stopped and commented on my thatched roof. “I just love the fact that you have used pine straw instead of shingles. It’s so quaint.” Okay, I get it. I need to clean off my roof.
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No big deal even though it is up there and I’m down here. It’s not too steep and, besides, many people have come by asking to do it. I can spare a couple of dollars to hire someone. Then, I got the dreaded “wild hair” that led me to say, “I can do it!”
I’ve got a ladder; at least a piece of a ladder. Unfortunately, it’s only six feet tall and the roof begins at 8 feet. That’s only two feet and I’ve jumped that far many times. Then I think, but have you jumped that far in the last twenty years? No problem. Not only do I have a wild hair, I’m feeling my oats, too.
Yes, but the old, gray mare she ain’t what she used to be!
I’ve also got a blower and plenty of electrical cord. All I have to do is put my ladder next to the roof, jump two feet toward the roof; all while holding my electric hurricane machine. No problem.
A good time to do this would be in the cool of the morning or evening. After all, the roof may look thatched, but underneath is some pretty hot asphalt shingles. The only problem is that my wild hair showed up at two o’clock in the afternoon when the outside temperature was 120 degrees. Real men have no control over their wild hairs.
Donna Sue asked, “Do you really think you should try this?” Famous words follow, “Just steady the rickety ladder and watch!”
When I got to the top of the ladder, I realized just how far two feet could be. I will simply say that the manner in which I traversed those two feet will never be described as graceful. I got up on top of the roof but never thought “How will I get down?”
I also didn’t appreciate just how hot those shingles would be at two o’clock in the afternoon. In Biblical terms they were two degrees cooler than the Lake of Fire. Now I know why I’m trying to be good!
Donna Sue offered gloves for the protection of my hands, but if I was going to do this the way a real man would, gloves were out of the question. Once again, the wild hair rules.
Actually I did okay until I realized that the job “done right” included the cleaning out of the gutter. The gutter is that part of the roof where it ends and nothing but air begins. To clean the gutters out, I would have to lean over the edge of the roof and look down into the valley of the shadow of death.
But, I did it! I actually did something of value to my house. Just call me Mr. Handyman. And, if you’re by Loblolly Lane and would like to help, I’d like to get off my roof. Dear Lord, please control my wild hairs.