I'm enjoying being "self-employed". It seems I've been quitting jobs lately because they haven't been inspiring or fulfilling but it's a dangerous thing for someone like me who usually lives paycheck to paycheck.
I've got my own petsitting company, so I decided to do some advertising and see what came of it. Well, I'm proud to announce that I can completely support myself this summer on petsitting alone! Then I'm going to join Mary Kary like my best friend and win me a car!
So other than becoming "self-employed" not much else has been going on lately... sorry for the boring blog. I don't have anything too interesting to post.
Actually, wait. If the thought of me scaling the side of a two story house on a rickety old ladder and squeezing through a small bathroom window with nothing but death below is interesting, then I take it all back. Yesterday I went to look after two cats that I had been looking after all weekend only to find that the doorknob and the deadbolt are not the same lock. Apparently every other time I was in this house I only locked the deadbolt that I had a key for. Sunday, however, I must have also locked the doorknob on accident because when I arrived to look after the kitties yesterday I could not get into the house.
Try as I might to break into any ground level windows, my attempts failed. Not to mention the fact that the next door neighbor was out on her porch looking at me suspiciously. I had to do SOMETHING though--the cats had no food and were probably starving and the catbox needed cleaning and it was in Surrey so I hadn't driven all that way for nothing. Acting under the guise that I was "just weeding the gardens", I walked around the house about 10 times looking for some window slightly open or some doorknob that this key I had would work on. Nothing. I stopped beside the house, wiped my brow of sweat, and looked toward the heavens for some divine intervention. And I got some. Way up... and I mean WAY up the side of the house at least 850 feet above was a tiny open window. If I only had climbing gear, I thought to myself. Then I thought that even if I had climbing gear how could I explain myself to the police? But the thought of the poor dying kitties inside was enough to propel me to look for a way to get into that window. Luckily they had been doing some renovations on their house and there were an assortment of ladders in the backyard. I found one of those ones that extends out (cuz it would have taken at least 3 of those normal A-shaped ladders to get me up as high as I needed to be). I placed it up against the house. No good, it wasn't long enough. I extended it to it's full length, and the top rung of the ladder was still about 4-5 feet from the window. Could I make it?
I started my ascent, praying to God no one would call the cops. After about the third step my legs started getting wobbly and I told myself there was no way I could climb the remaining 12038 steps if I was nervous already. Then I was reminded of the challenge course at my University. I did crazy things on that challenge course, like climb huge trees and stand on tiny pieces of wood way up high. I could do this! Except on the challenge course I had ropes attached to me keeping me from certain death. Here, the only thing holding me up was a rickety wooden ladder and my legs, neither of which I trusted very much.
But again I thought about the kittens and I pressed on. 2 steps from the top I could ALMOST reach the lower ledge of the window. I told myself that if I took one more step I could grasp the window firmly and hopefully not die should the ladder fall away. ONE step from the top now and I had my hands fully extended above my head, but I had my hands grasped on the window ledge. This meant, you guessed it, that I'd have to stand on the VERY TOP RUNG of the ladder in order for me to have enough leverage to actually pull myself in through the window. I didn't dare look down, because at this point there was no way I could dream of climbing back down. I took a deep breath, looked around to check for neighbours or police, and took the last step. At this point I was shaking so badly I thought the ladder would give out. I propped a piece of wood against it at the bottom but everything I have ever learned about ladders says you should never stand on the top rung. The window was so narrow, and I was too low that I couldn't swing my leg into the window to break into the house in a respectable way, so instead I had to practically hurl my midsection through the window and cartwheel off the toilet bowl onto the floor, taking various knick knacks and trinkets from the shelf along with me. I collected myself and stood, realizing that my legs were so weak I could barely walk straight. I tidied the mess I made and then looked out the window. I decided that even if there was a fire in the house and that was the only way out that there was no way in heck I'd be able to leave that same way. I have NO idea how I did that. Fortunately, no neighbours saw, the kittens were thrilled to see me, and I was able to put away the ladder and leave without incident. Well, at least without getting arrested.
The things I do for animals.
Anyway, Happy 4th of July Clayworld!
Candy~ (who's entire week was like a bad episode of Fear Factor...)
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