About Me

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Hello there from sunny Nth Qld in Australia...the luckiest country on the planet AT THE MOMENT! I'm retired and recently widowed. I love to travel . Airplane, boat, walking but mostly by means of my motorcycle. I love to garden too. I have a wee small doggie named George and an old cat named Kitty. Two years on from Tim passing we three have almost sorted out living without him. I think it will be 'almost' forever more.Can't see me being over it completely if you know what I mean. I intend to fill these blogs with my journey on my bike.Too much has happened in the space between today and my last blog. This is my last ditch effort to revive my creative writing skills.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Klose Kall for Kez!

Tim said, "Lets clean the loft".
I said, "What for...there is very little up there these days."

Up goes the ladder, a different one, I might tell you, to the one I used last time I went up into the loft (3 years ago). "She'll be right", said Tim and I agreed as it was very long and I would be able to manage better. Mmmmmm! Scene was left till it cooled down ...an indoors activity planned for later.

While Tim and Sooty were off having their evening constitution up to the dam and back I thought  I would pop up and give it a sweep and get down the stuff we wanted.

Ladder secure. Mat under feet so we don't scratch the timber floor. Give it a shake and a push... the ladder not the mat! All seemed safe. I was approximately 3/4 the way to the top when ever so gracefully the ladder slid. It was like walking on an escalator in the opposite direction, you know, like when you were a kid!  Trouble is I am 56 now!

I looked down as the ladder was sliding and was thinking about how to land, fall, crash and what damage I was going to do to myself. Suddenly the floor was the furthest concern from my mind. Just as the end of the ladder reached the edge of the man hole ( woman  hole?) ...it stopped. Stuck on the edge  was a small plastic end cover thinggy that broke in half and went flying accross the space called loft. Stuck on the edge was crazy women in knickers and T.shirt hanging on for dear limb. Life was okay I summised but a ride in ambulance was sure to be the nights activity.

Tom was home. Thankfully he was just hanging around waiting to run to my assistance. Normally he'd be asleep by now, aircon  blasting just enough noise to dampen my calls for help.

After berating me for doing such a stupid thing without someone to hold the ladder and threatening  to leave me there and collect his inheritence early he then held the ladder steady while I  went up to finish what I started. Nothing like a bit of drama to finish off the day. Yep...Alive On the Edge!
Keeps the heart pumpin' clears out those arteries!


The ladder stuck on edge.


This is how far it slid.

6 comments:

  1. Okay, I believe you, you like to live on the edge, you know there's really no need to be quite so 'literal'!!!

    Hate to say this, but Tim was right....

    hugs
    Annette

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  2. snessest... hows that for word.. could be good in a book.. make up your own meaning!!!

    lol lol
    hugs again from Annette

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  3. How do you pronounce it? Sness'est or snes'sest?
    Where did that create it's self from? You on something Sister!

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  4. OMG!! you are bloody lucky! No ladders for people over 50 when they are by themselves is my rule! Learn that sister.
    XX
    Gailene

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  5. LOL, it was the 'type in' word, you know for security reasons... lol best one I've seen
    and today's is 'moidete'....hhaha.. love it

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  6. I am glad you didnt get hurt, Thanks for all the lovely comments on my blog and the wits site

    I hope you are doing well, looking forward to seeing you at WITS over the new year

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