The ten-feet high club

May 11, 2010

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At the altitude of ten feet, holding a giant metal ceiling tile overhead while balancing on a ladder with hubby, things can get pretty hot and heavy. And not in a good way.

“Okay,” he says. “A little bit toward me. STOP! A little bit toward you. WAIT! Right there. Don’t move, okay? DON’T MOVE!”

He reaches down to grab a hammer and a tiny box of nails balancing precariously on a rung a few feet down. I tremble, flush, whimper.

“You moved!”

I try to tell him he’s a son of a motherless goat–his supplies should’ve been at-the-ready. Nails pressed between his lips. Hammer tucked into his pants. Seconds count.

But all I can manage is: “Nails in your face! Hammer pants! BLARRRRRRG!!!”

More than once, he drops the entire box of nails on the floor, and I consider hanging him off the side of the ladder by his waistband. But then I reconsider. Someday, I do want to have children with this man.

It takes three weekends, seven years’ worth of savings from our loose change jar, and one generous gift card from Lowe’s (courtesy the Old House Web blogger contest). But dammit, we make it happen. We join the ranks of the ten-feet high club, adding a gorgeous tin ceiling to our foyer. We make progress.


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Tweets that mention The ten-feet high club : Bless This DIY Mess --
May 12, 2010 at 7:14 am

{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }

Kate H. May 11, 2010 at 4:09 am

“Nails in your face! Hammer pants!”


Sayers May 26, 2010 at 12:18 am

“Nails in your face! Hammer pants!”

Brian Meeks June 11, 2010 at 7:50 pm

That was a delightful blog piece. I have just discovered your blog and I am excited to see what other stories are hiding among the archives. The ceiling looks lovely.

Jackie Craven June 19, 2010 at 3:33 pm

Yikes! I think I’ll concentrate on refinishing FLOORS!

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