I think I’ve found a down side to weight loss. My mother made me climb into her attic! I could no longer use the “I am so much fatter than you and I will probably break right through the rickety ladder rungs” excuse that has served me so well over the years. It’s right up there with the “But I’m a girl!” excuse I used whenever I was asked to mow the lawn or move heavy furniture. I’m usually all about female equality and take pride in killing my own bugs, but when you ask me to move a futon upstairs from the basement I suddenly get very 1950’s girly on you.
I had to crawl into the attic because that’s where the box of binders is. I risked life and limb to retrieve an item I could probably get for a buck at Walgreens because I am foolish that way. The attic ladder pulls down from the ceiling, so the top 4 or 5 steps butt right up against the ceiling panel. Which means you can only step on them with the tip of your foot. If that wasn’t bad enough, I was also scared a raccoon might eat my face off. My mother had reported earlier hearing scratching in the walls, which means a critter has been crawling around in her crawlspace and possible venturing up there.
Luckily, my nose and eyes and all my face parts are still in tact, though I hear they can do a transplant for that nowadays if I’m not so fortunate next time. And I got my binder. I suppose suffering through trials like this is just the cost of being thin(ner). Before you know it Mom will be asking me to wiggle into the crawlspace to check for possums.