Lift me to the Lights!

The nine foot ceilings on the main floor of my house were listed as a feature when I first saw the listing. I agreed they were nice, making the rooms feel bigger and more spacious.

But since moving in, the nine foot ceilings have proved a bit challenging. For example, some genius decided that the perfect place for the ground floor smoke detector is about six feet from the stove. When it goes off, I can’t quite reach the detector to stop the insane beeping, even standing on a chair. I’ve learned that a mop handle does the trick and stops the alarm and also the cat’s harmonious cries.

The high ceilings are even more of a hurdle when combined with stairs – especially the uneven, concrete stairs leading to my basement. And of course, directly above this mess, is one of the most-used light fixtures in my house. Since this fixture lights up the back hallway, foyer, closets and steps to the basement, it gets flipped on and off numerous times a day, making a CFL bulb not practical, since those take a solid 40-60 seconds to warm up and provide full light.

Last night, I got home and discovered the bulb had burned out. It’s always a bit precarious climbing up to it, since the best way is to set the stepladder at the top of the curving stairs and lean over the abyss while stretching with all your might to the fixture. I got everything set up and climbed up, but found my still-not-quite-right ankle couldn’t handle the requisite tippy toes. I reluctantly turned the task over to Don.

Maybe there should be a height requirement for home ownership.

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