Anyone who has told you otherwise has never had to replace an air filter in a ten-foot ceiling.
I’ve needed to do this for quite some time, and so the Bots and I went ladder shopping this morning. “You’ll need a six-foot ladder,” Husbot had told us.
But on the six-foot ladder, the highest a person is allowed to stand is on the step that’s three feet, ten inches above the floor. At a quarter inch short of five-ten, that means my head would reach to eight feet, eight inches above the floor, and I could touch the ceiling with my wrists. Which would be adequate. It would be perfect for Husbot, who’s six-foot-two with wingspan long enough to allow him to fold queen fitted sheets as though for a fitted sheet folding contest. But what if I want to climb into the attic, or hang planets from the ceiling of Mbot’s bedroom?
B.B. (Before Bots) I would have thought nothing of standing on tiptoe on the second step from the top. But now, I find myself visualizing crashing to the tile floor and being knocked unconscious while the Bots have the run of the house. It would be even less desirable than being Locked Out, Braless, on a Monday Morning. And so we left Ace with the ten-foot model. The Helpful Hardware Man (the six-foot-eight model), hefted it easily onto the roof of the Automobot.
It’s not light, and it’s awkward, but it makes me feel powerful. Some women get this feeling from driving a half-ton pickup truck. Some get it from wearing six-inch Christian Laboutin heels. A ladder is better for the environment and for my arches. Although it doesn’t go with my purse.
What makes you feel powerful?