The Great Paint Adventure

Well, this weekend I found out that I am NOT a professional painter... or even an unprofessional painter... I'm sore, covered in paint, bruised, but glad to be alive. I never knew there was so much to painting! Saturday morning, bright and early, I marched outside, excited and determined to make a dent in the as yet largely undone house of mine. I pulled out the giant extension ladder from the garage, and balanced it carefully as I carried it around the back side of the house (it's heavy!). Then I had to make a run to the hardware store, as I discovered I was almost out of paint, and paint thinner. Voila! Home again, I began by pouring the newly purchased paint into the pan, and sloshing it around with the roller. Hmm. Got to figure out where to put the paint while I stand on the ladder. Hmmm - there isn't any platform to put it on. So, back to the garage to pull out ladder # two - the one with the flat thing on it to set the paint on. Oh - found some surgical gloves with which to protect my dainty hands. Too bad they are size Xtra small - hmm, not a comfortable fit but I'll stop later when my fingers lose their circulation. Okay, only an hour later now I'm ready to start. This is much more tedious than I thought. I seem to be splashing paint on everything. Oh, a dropcloth you say? Well, since there is nothing but dirt and leaves beneath me, I didn't see the need. Too bad, now my decorative rock/boulder which I saved from a construction site and lovingly heaved to this spot is now covered with hideous and unsightly blue spots. I tried to wash it off with paint thinner - but it looks worse. Okay, now for the big painting adventure. I extended the giant ladder as far up as it could extend, and then climbed up. My goal was to paint the top gable - the highest point on the house. I climbed up to a point, and then, acrobatically leaped onto the secondary pitched roof next to the main part. Balancing between the now far-away ladder and the second gable, holding on for dear life to the roof's edge with one paint-covered hand, while clutching the entire filled-to-the-brim paint pan with roller and paintbrush inside in the other, I gently put the pan down on the top of the pointed roof. It seemed to balance there - for an instant. Then, as I watched in horror, it just jumped off the roof, and tumbled down the crease of the roofs where they joined together, gushing out paint as it fell in slow motion all the way down. The shingles on the roof are black. The paint is a pale blue - almost white primer - the stark contrast reminds me of the duck poop I washed off the roof last spring when Danny's ducks next door made my roof their new perch. Only this stuff doesn't wash off. sigh. At least it wasn't me falling, falling, off the roof and splatting all over below on the porch. Thank you Lord. I'm sore, humbled, and hoping to make a better go of it next weekend when I pick up the challenge once again. I think I need a scaffold...