Today I tried to paint the house eaves. I dragged a tarp, a scraper, a bucket of paint and a brush up the ladder to the roof. Now, the Stonehouse roof is almost comfortable to walk on but a little too steep to sit on without sliding down. It certainly isn't flat enough for a bucket of paint to stay upright when left to its own devices. I spread out the tarp under the eave, hooked the bucket over one arm, grabbed onto the adjoining roof with the same arm, and tried to paint with the other arm. Immediately the tarp and I began slipping down the roof. I dug in with my elbows and heels and got an armful of splinters for my trouble. As we were inching down the roof I managed a few furious strokes of green paint, then everything (the tarp, the bucket, the brush and I) had to be hauled back up a few feet. Repeat numerous times, with me clinging to the roof by my fingernails while flailing about under the eave with the brush, my hat covered in paint, and the sun in my eyes. It was awful and I was not the epitome of grace. (I was not in any danger, however, as the kitchen roof was right below me and would have caught me safely if I had slipped all the way off.)
Meanwhile the men were having a lovely time siding the kitchen. In the shade. Excellent work as usual, men. It looks great. :)
Great siding! Your painting-the-eaves story is really a hoot! How much did you manage to get done? And who was doing the hauling up?
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