i had to move the tv across the bedroom.
a rather mundane mantask you'd think.
not when i'm involved.
first, the bedroom sits at the top of the house—the third floor.
the issue: the needed extra length of tv cable, which comes in from the roof outside, was in the clutches of a death vine that had coiled around it like an anaconda.
it wasn't budging unless i got out on the roof and cut the cable free from the clutches of the coiled branch beast.
so out i went into the day, armed with my usual arsenal of inadequate tools: a hedge clipper whose blades haven't been sharpened since tiny tim wed miss vicky, and a termite infested wooden ladder to get me to the roof below the snagged cable.
what faced me was a real-life, manlogic brainteaser—sixteen feet to scale, six feet of ladder.
i used the ladder to climb on top of a large heating oil storage tank that sits along side the house.
once atop, i pulled the ladder up, collapsed it, balanced its two legs precariously on the rounded storage tank top, and then leaned the upper part against the side of the house.
i ascended the ladder to the top once again and lifted myself up the remaining four feet to the roof.
once there, i engaged the barked monster in hand-to-limb combat, eventually freeing the cable.
the navigation up and ensuing battle?
not so bad.
the descent down in dizzy victorious delight?
not so good!
as usual, i hadn't quite thought this solution through to completion.
the short of it, an hour later i was back on terra firma, albeit scraped raw from a slow suicide slide down the shingles to the lifeline ladder sitting four feet below, leaving any dizzy victorious delight peeled away and dangling from the gutter above for all to see.
but the tv was moved successfully, dammit to hell!
and in the end, nothing could diminish the manpride i felt in another mantask done manly.
not even keaton's wild screams of dismanbelief as i calmly explained my bloodied appendages and general tattered appearance!