I’ll elaborate on this later in the week, when I have more time. But for now, try to imagine me not on this puny, wildly insufficient stepladder, but scaling a regular construction ladder on the landing pictured below, straining — my left hand and leg tremoring — to reach a smoke detector at the end of its usable life.
Now imagine my taller, better-coordinated spouse — one who is, to the best of our knowledge, Parkinson’s-free — overseeing this spectacle from the ground and saying “You can put the replacement up later” as I stepped down prematurely due to unsteadiness.*
Do you think Crankenstein was trying to kill me? I’m undecided but optimistically leaning toward “No, she’s just afraid of heights.” I was going to put a poll here to gauge public opinion but can’t figure out how to use that feature.
Oh, and if you’re trying to make out what’s on the wall, it’s Jesus tenderly cradling a baby dinosaur. I printed it off the Internet and framed it as a joke for Crankenstein years ago. When we moved into our current place it was given a more prominent spot because I didn’t want to remove the hanging hooks left by the previous owners. Eventually it’ll probably be replaced by something bigger and more ridiculous, like the painting of Susie from Curb Your Enthusiasm.
* I was fine, my medication had worn off. Once the next dose kicked in, I replaced it.