Tuesday Tip For Living Alone #2 - Don't Die, They Won't Find You!

Living alone, you start to get what I like to call *'Havnophobia'. This is the process by which the voice of reason fails to tell you not to do something crazy or potentially dangerous. Remember in 'Animal House' where the guy has an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. It's just like that, but the angel's kid has a soccer game, so he doesn't show up. Sometimes it's little things like using a paper towel, not a potholder, to take something out of the oven. Other times it may be a 'Fear Factor' approach to the home made guacamole (at least it may have been guacamole) that you found in the back of the refrigerator when you were dying to eat those, almost out of date, Tortilla chips.

You would think that while talking to yourself that you might actually say, “Wait, I want to do WHAT?”. Unfortunately though, usually it works against you and sounds something like a pep talk, “It would be great to fix the metal awning during a storm. How many people actually get struck by lightning?”, or, “My wood stairs are dirty, furniture wax would make them REALLY shiny.”.

I have a theory about this. When you are alone you have an amazing amount of intelligent thoughts, way more than you could have if you lived with someone else. 'Havnophobia' is the counterbalance, that equalizes all of those great thoughts in short burst of, “What the ?”. My example for today requires me to give you some facts about my place:
1. I have eight foot ceilings upstairs and down.
2.My attic entrance is a huge swing door located on the upstairs hallway ceiling to the right of the staircase.
3.My ladder is about 4' tall.
4.I am just over 5'6” tall.
I think you all see where I am going with this. I could probably put the ladder in front of the kids' room door, but what fun would that be? So when I needed to put the 50 pound orange and black bin of Halloween 'stuff' away, I put the ladder, where else, but in front of the stairs. Well, that's not dangerous enough. I can't reach into the attic on the four foot ladder unless I go to the top wrung, so second wrung warning be damned! I'm now about 16ft. From the bottom of the steps on an a-frame ladder that just won't cooperate while I'm balancing on one foot and leaning into the attic. I get down safely and say, “While I have the ladder here, I might as well put everything in the attic that needs to go there.”. I look down the stairs and say, “Wow that's far down... I better start putting that stuff away.”. After box number three, I realize I need to move some of the boxes farther into the attic. With all of the grace and skill of a drunk gymnast, I launch myself from the top wrung of the wobbling ladder and using just the side beams of the opening pull myself up. Half a centimeter more launch and I would have knocked myself out, or created a sky light. I say to myself, “Good job, that was close.”. I move some boxes and try for a perfect dismount. Holding myself up with my arms, I hover my feet onto the swaying ladder.

My living alone brain, pats me on the back, “Awesome, I don't need a taller ladder to clutter up the place.”. I then look up at the smoke detector. The previous owner mounted it on the ceiling above the stairs. He was alone too. Last time the stupid thing had a false alarm at 4:00a.m., I almost did a header off of the ladder and down the stairs. I think, “Wow, if I die, how long will it take for someone to find me.”. Thanks to AT&T service my cellphone went from excellent to it doesn't ring half the times and sends people direct to voice mail. How long before the smell would start bothering my neighbors? The fleeting thought of, 'I have to be more careful.', is followed by a verbal, “What was I thinking about now?”. Oh yeah, 'What if I die of natural causes?'. Like the flash of the devil on my shoulder, I laugh and say, “Don't worry about it dude, you won't be around anyway.”

* Havnophobia – [hav-noh-foh-bee-uh] The fear of not fearing when you should.

Next Tuesday,  Tip For Living Alone #3!