Over the last few years I've developed a serious fear of heights. I never liked high places, but now when I am not at ground level, I actually physically react in a way over which I have very little control. I get what must be vertigo (can't keep my balance), and panic sets in. Typically I just avoid high places, including stairwells under which I can see the space between flights, and ferris wheels-- that kind of thing. I know it's irrational, but it happens anyway. So, I felt pretty good about myself, having climbed up this ladder this morning to put up what the girls call the "birdie condo."
Here's the dramatic photo of how high I climbed (risking my life) for the sake of my children's happiness:
Here's reality. I was desperately hugging the tree with one arm while equally as desperately hammering the nails in with the other hand just enough so the houses wouldn't fall. I think I left my extra nails up there before hurrying down to solid ground. I left the ladder so Joe can "confirm" (re-do/alter/finish) my work.
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