Fear of Heights

Okay, you might have noticed me talking about roofing issues and contractors in the past few days. That’s because at this very moment the roof is practically hanging off my house. It’s all thanks to water damage from what I can understand as the fascia boards and the roof beams have rotted out. And since I’m in a region where we expect frequent and heavy snows and the dead of winter’s fast approaching, I’m more than a little eager to get things fixed before yet more snow gets into the gaping holes and further damages the wooden framework that holds up what’s left of the roof over my head. And I’m exaggerating a bit here but a few good snowstorms and I won’t be. Which is kinda what I’m stressing about if you get my drift.

Anyway, let me tell you a little story, if I may, about how this all began. I’m not sure exactly when but let’s just say about a month or two ago I noticed scratching skittering noises coming from above while I was in my bed. Usually at night, sometimes in the morning when I was waking up. Well, I didn’t think too much of it at first because the sounds were faint and hardly noticeable compared to some others. And we have a lot of squirrels in the area and a lot of trees and such that make it easy for them to climb up and leap around. If it was anything, I though, it was just some squirrels racing around on the roof. Nothing to worry about.

And, well, I’m sure you can see where this is going but over time the sounds got louder. And harsher. And more frequent. Until I couldn’t ignore them quite so easily as it sounded like there were any number of animals racing around in my attic. Clawing at the walls. Dashing over the beams. Gnawing at the insulation. Fighting and who knows what else. A quick peak in the attic – it’s unfurnished and really nothing more than a crawlspace there’s nothing up there but some of the house’s machinery and it’s certainly not a place I frequent so this was probably the first time I’d been up there in more than a year – and I discovered droppings and freshly chewed insulation. Couldn’t see how they were getting in but the evidence was clear: they were somehow.

Still, it wasn’t all that big of a deal. Not the first time animals have gotten loose up there. The last time I’d hired a company or a service or just a worker to come out and seal up the vents with some wire mesh and remove anything still trapped inside. My city provides traps for such things for free for any resident but not having to deal with the hassle of baiting them and then figuring out just what to do with the animals once they’re caught is worth the cost of paying someone to lay the traps themselves. And since I figured I would need new grates or some other quick repair done – I’d just been through something like this with the chimney, after all, when raccoons had gotten in after the wire caps had fallen off – that’s what I did again. Went through the phonebook, checked some references, made some calls and hired someone to come out and fix the problem.

Well, they came and took a look around the attic and laid a trap or two. But when they came back down they told me there wasn’t much point. The fascia boards had rotted out. Fascia boards, by the way, around here anyway, serve to hold the gutters onto the roof and look something like this:



So, anyway, there were gaps in the fascia board that animals could slip through and until that was fixed there was going to be no way of keeping them from getting back in. The traps might get the ones in there at the moment but until the holes were patched there’d be more slipping in and nesting in the attic. I, of course, enquired if the animal control person – whom I’d chosen because their ad mentioned they were also a carpenter who could make repairs if need be – could do that sort of thing. And they said, nope, that was too big of a job and I’d really need a roofer to come out and take care of it.

So, I had to find someone to fix my roof. The company I chose was the one, naturally enough, that had worked on my roof the last time I’d needed work done. That was about nine years ago when I had the thing reshingled. Which, that was supposed to last for ten years at least and probably another ten beyond then. But back when they’d put the new roof on over the old one they’d also had to repair some boards in the roof. It’s a harsh climate around here, after all, and it’s easy for ice to back up in gutters or otherwise get into the woodwork. Once that happens it can rot in a matter of months let alone years. So, it’s not all that uncommon a problem as I’ve learned from talking with others. Still, it’s like when your car breaks down – it happens and you expect it but not when it actually does. And while it’s not uncommon it’s not exactly a common problem, either, especially not with the shallow slope of my roof. Not if the roofers do a good job and make sure everything’s sealed up and well done. And, of course, people keep their gutters clean so they’re less apt to flood (Which I hadn’t. More on that in a bit, though). So, I was a bit pissed that the problem had happened but since I’d dealt with this company before I figured they’d be as good as any other.

So, I call them up and they come out and give me an estimate. Which is more than I’d like to pay. But, then, I’d rather pay nothing so it didn’t seem totally outrageous. If I’d been smart and gotten some more estimates at this point I might have saved myself some hassle but, well, I didn’t. Because I’d hired this company before and I hadn’t had a complaint about their work in the past nor had I heard one from anyone else I checked with. What they told me was that they’d have to remove the back gutter, replace the fascia board, and then install a new gutter since the old one would be wrecked in removing it. Which, again, sounded simple enough and about what I was expecting. My main concern at that point was having the new gutter match the other ones and the rest of the house’s trim. Because, well, appearances matter around here and even though it wouldn’t be an exact match it would fade over time and hopefully not look all that out of place. So, since the trim on my house is a particular shade of off-white it took some thinking and comparing to determine exactly what color gutter to get. None of the samples matched the existing ones precisely. So I’d look at them in this light and that light, from near and far, figure out how the colors would fade and tarnish over time and everything else I could imagine would affect the color. And then I slept on it. The answer I came up with was herringbone. Which, since I can’t find a good sample of the color (The name sees more use as a pattern it seems.) in my searching I’d describe as a kind of grayish cream that’s almost but not quite white. It’s a cool color with a hint of reddish pigment that gives it kind of a purple look under the right light conditions. Or yellow. I forget at the moment exactly which color I picked just that it’s called Herringbone. One of the off-whites was a little too pink, another a little too green, another a little too yellow. And I settled on one of them, eventually.

Well, it didn’t take me all that long but the color’s one that the roofing company didn’t stock so they had to order it. The days and weeks dragged with no word from the company (which should have been a warning sign in and of itself) by until one day a new gutter magically appeared in my backyard. The next day, the contractors came ready to get to work but even before they set up their ladders they noticed a problem. From the ground they could see that it wasn’t just the fascia board it was also the roof beams – the wood that connects to the fascia boards and also to the shingles. It’s, basically, the border of the roof proper. Now, these workers weren’t exactly roofers and they weren’t exactly prepared to repair that wood, too. That would involve tearing off the shingles and replacing them, somehow, and they just didn’t have the equipment or the expertise to do so. They’d just come prepared to fix the fascia and add the gutter. Well, to get a good look at the problem they wanted to tear off the old gutter and I agreed because I figured it would have to go eventually anyways. And once it was off they confirmed their initial diagnosis. And also told me there wouldn’t be any point in replacing the fascia boards let alone the gutter because with the roof beams rotted and also missing in places the water that had been causing the damage would still be getting in (to say nothing of the animals that were still up there).

While they were up there they looked around at the rest of the roof and found that the damage wasn’t just restricted to the back it was happening in the front of the house – just, fortunately, not on the fascia there so the gutter could be spared. But to fix things they’d need to tear up at least a few rows of shingles on both sides and replace the wood. There was talk of drip edges and aluminum cladding on the fascia and ice and water shields under the shingles at this point but all I could see was a ringing cash register. They called their boss – the one who’d given me the estimate in the first place – and he confirmed what they were saying. He called the roofer – the one who’d done the roof nine years ago -who came and promised me he’d get me a new estimate as soon as he could. Again, it’s just like when your car breaks down. You think it’s something minor but you take it to the mechanic and they keep finding things wrong with it. More expensive things that they can add to your bill. In the meantime I’ve got a house with no back gutter and gaping holes in the fascia board and roof beam’s so rotted the shingles are falling right off. And the next rain or snow that comes along is going to find a lot of purchase on all that exposed and vulnerable wood that everyone keeps telling me can rot so quickly.

Anyways, the story goes on from there – they usually do (nothing ever ends, Adrian) – but I’ll spare you the details. Suffice to say that I was spitting mad and got a few other estimates this time around. And, well, the original company’s was the cheapest but I’m beginning to suspect there’s a reason for that. And I’m not hiring them again. I’m still waiting for the work to begin but I’ve decided to have the whole roof replaced while the repairs are made at this point. The weather’s turned cold but it’s not that bad yet and the roof will need to be redone sooner or later. I could just have the wood fixed but that wouldn’t last very long. And the difference in price between having things repaired and having it redone isn’t all that much – the main cost is the labor and there’s almost as much work in tearing everything off as there is in carefully only going up so far. And the roofers all tell me they can do even a complete refurbishing of everything within a day. Which is amazing, to me, because I’m sure it would take me a lot longer than that myself. So, I’d rather not spend the money, of course, but if I want a roof this winter I have to. And I’d rather make the investment now and get everything covered under a good and solid warranty from a company I can trust. Which I thought I already had but, well, things happen.

But I’m not all that upset because of the reason I just gave you all that background. I promised I’d get to it but the reason I don’t clean my gutters out as much as I should or would like to is that I’m deathly afraid of heights. Can’t stand them. I went up in the Sears Tower once and in the observation deck they have they giant windows that fit seamlessly into the ceiling and the floor so that if you lean in close and look far enough into the horizon it looks like there’s nothing between you and the open air. Left that building shaking and I haven’t been back since. Can’t look out of the windows of any moderately tall building or I risk vertigo. I’m a wreck on any plane – not because I’m afraid of crashing but because I have this irrational fear that the floor’s going to disappear and I’m going to plummet to the earth. Don’t even talk to me about skydiving. I can’t even look over the side of a boat over clear water because the bottom’s so far down. The higher I go the worse it gets. And there’s really no reason for it. And I know that. But fear is an irrational thing and it claws its way into me through my brainstem and takes over before reason can even raise an objection. No matter how much I wish it wouldn’t.

The thing is, my house is two stories tall. It’s got a lower roof and the second story rises from that with a roof of its own. I’m fine enough on a step ladder that I can reach the gutters on the lower level and muck the leaves and things out of them. And the boards around the lower level are fine. But to reach the upper level I’d have to climb up not a step ladder but one of those rickety extending ladders. The very kind the contractors brought when they came to repair the fascia board. And, well, I just can’t. Bringing myself to climb those steps and feel the metal twist and sway under my weight is just something I’m not able to do. The ground falls away and I grip tighter and tighter until I’m convinced I’m going to let go.

Normally, anyway. Because, here’s the deal. When the contractors pointed out what was wrong and before they tore off the gutters they’d set up their ladders. And they asked me if I wanted to climb up and take a look at the problem first hand before I decided what to do. A day, a week earlier and I might have said something different. But this was the last week of November and I was deep into my NaNo novel. I was challenging myself, in other words, to push my limits and break my boundaries. To let go of my fears and just act. It’s worked on the page, I thought in that brief instant between starting to say no and the next. Why can’t it work in real life? So when they asked if I’d like to go up and look for myself I said, “Nnnnn….yeah, I’d rather not but, well, if I have to then I will.”

And, well, I did. Stepped outside, felt the unseasonably warm air on my face, felt the sweat cooling on my palms, and took one step onto the rungs of the closest ladder. And another. And another. I kept going until I was at the top. The workers were being, well, workers. And joking with me about how I wouldn’t feel much if I fell and boy, isn’t it breezy out today and all the rest. It’s, you know, gallows humor. These people climb ladders and work on roofs all day long they know far better than I what happens when someone falls that far. But they deal with it by making light of it and making sure it’s not as big and bad as they’re worried about. I might have smiled and chuckled briefly and maybe even let a weak sarcastic remark slip out but I don’t really remember. I mostly concentrated on making sure I had my hands in place and my feet firm as I went up rung after run. Concentrating on the corrugated metal rough beneath my hands. On the firm grip of my boots with their laces tight. On the still air and the smells of a late autumn – all leaves and grass and lush wetness. Now that I think of it, I’m sure I spoke. Because afterwards there weren’t as many jokes.

See, I think it was then that the workers realized I was having a problem with climbing the ladder. Even though it was something they did every day. People seem to mistake me for a calm person a lot, after all, and someone who’s placid and burying their emotions. Which, well, I am but only so they don’t bubble through to the surface and show on my face, for instance. I still feel them and I feel them as fully as I feel anything, I’ve just learned how to make sure that people can’t see what I’m thinking just by looking at me, so to speak. And so although I don’t have any pictures of it, I’m certain that when I was climbing that ladder I didn’t look all that different than I did when I first answered the door. Just an ordinary person with an easy going demeanor – if one with perhaps a bit of a look of intensity behind their eyes. But my voice would have betrayed me and the difficult I was having. It usually does. Because when I’m not paying attention to it my emotions pour out raw and unfiltered through my throat. So even if I was trying to be calm and focus on the moment I’m sure I quivered or sounded a little uncertain or something to let them know I wasn’t in the mood for joking. Because they knocked it off after that.

Still, that far up the ladder I wasn’t about to turn around and go back down. As calmly as I could, as evenly as I could, as steadily as I could, I kept going. And when I got far enough to see over the gutter I took a good look at the rotting boards and the damage caused by time and neglect and water. Just long enough to remember which, for me, doesn’t take very long. Not if I’m trying to hold a picture in my head, anyway. But then I made the mistake of looking down. And, well, that was enough for me. I climbed back down the ladder as quickly as I could. And firmly on the ground again told the workers to go ahead and strip off the gutter and do what they could while we waited for their boss to show up. Went back inside and did whatever it was I was doing at the time. Didn’t even let out a sigh of relief.

But it wasn’t long before I realized what I’d done. And the rest of the day I felt like hugging everyone else I met and telling them about it. I wanted to run down the street waving my arms above my head with glee until I ran into someone. Hug them close and shout at them, “I climbed a ladder! For the first time in….well, forever! And I didn’t even think twice about doing it!” Because I know it’s nothing to most people but for me, each step up that ladder was a huge one. And I could feel the distance when I took the time to think back on it. But, no, I’m afraid my inner editor isn’t quite that dead because I only mentioned it in passing. Trying to stay cool and calm, as always.