OK, I admit it. I'm a big old chicken when it comes to roofs, ladders, that sort of "up high, no railings" thing. I've been to the top of the Empire State Bldg. World Trades' Center, the Eiffel Tower, etc. I did draw the line at going to the top of the Tower of Pisa for months. Hey, the darn thing LEANS! (I think I finally relented at the end of my time there, just to say I had done it. I never told Mom; she would have had kittens!)
We had to unplug the wood stove chimney. That means taking off the top of the stack. That means going out on the roof. Luckily, it's only one story and does not have a steep pitch. But it's still a roof. I managed to get out there and get the cap off, dropping part of it off the roof and over the fence (of course). At that point, my courage ran out on me. Our next door neighbor, Tanner, ended up putting the stupid cap back on. But that was much, much later.
Birds' nests throughout the whole chimney. I need say no more. Gross and time-consuming. I'm never afraid to get dirty. However, bird stuff does bother me. And to top it off, something stung me on the neck while I was trying to dislodge the mess. Marty was getting more pokey things to put up the chimney. Don't ask me what stung me because I have no idea. Could have been an aboriginal dart for all I know.
Now I ask you: Why would anyone want to sing on a roof, more or less fiddle? As long as I was looking out (not down) and not near the edge, I was fine. The minute I was on the edge, panic started to set it. I remember telling myself to stay calm and breath. Fat lot of good that did.
I am not as brave as I'd like to be. It's very disheartening sometimes.