Plan for the worst

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While up on my house roof, painting the corrugated iron on a hot Auckland day, I was going so well I began thinking I was bullet proof.
I was getting good grip from my running shoes on the iron that I had systematically sanded down over the previous two days and was jamming the hard edges of the soles of my shoes up against the big, lead-headed nails. I was planning every move and being careful to give myself options. I was so on top of things I didn't bother to tether into a safety harness. After all, it would slow me down.
I was so on top of things, I forgot I was on top of my house - which was lined on two sides with exposed corrugated iron fences.
With one eye on the beautiful view over Meola Reef and the Upper Harbour, I went down on one knee, reached over and shifted the paint tray closer to me. One edge caught against my knee, and suddenly two litres of roof paint were all over my feet, under my shoes, all over my hands - and all over the area of roof that I needed to get a grip on. One slip and I would slide down the roof in a second and land straight onto a sharp, corrugated iron fence, three metres or more below the house's ceiling height.
I'd led a lucky life until then in terms of injuries and near-miss experiences, but I realised for the first time that I faced a very good chance of being killed or severely injured.
Shaking from head to foot with outright blue-funk fear, I knew my only chance was to stay completely still. (Yes...while kneeling at the apex of a house roof, covered in wet paint and with my anchoring foot shaking uncontrollably as I tried to get my fear under control).
What eventually saved me? Well, another piece of my own stupidity. Not only had I chosen to paint on a hot day, but also it was one of the brightest, sunniest days of the summer so far. A dumb day to paint a house roof - everyone knew that but me.
But it saved me. The paint dried so fast, it more or less sealed me onto the iron roof over the next 15 minutes. It dried at least enough for me to slowly reach out, grip the peak of the roof and slowly twist my body to sit on an unpainted part of the iron. As my shaking subsided, I gradually inched away from the spillage. Half an hour later I was ready to make my way back to the safety of my ladder.
Stupid? Yes. My drive to get the job done during a week-end off work had nearly killed me. I learned a big DIY lesson that day.

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