So there I wuz . . .
I was doing a bit of touch-up painting on the front porch trim, following my fixing of the door sill. I was standing about two feet up on an extension ladder, holding a nearly full gallon of black paint in my left hand and a full paintbrush in my right, when the ladder slipped. It went forward, and I went backward, spiraling as I fell. I did a half circle and wound up on my back in the grass.
The full paint can lost less than a cup of paint, all of it on the lawn. The can wound up sitting firmly on its base, still in my grip. Not a drop of paint on me or anything else but the grass. How I managed it, I don't know, but I'm glad to take my bow and be done with it.
Oh, she was an acrobat's daughter,
she swung by her teeth from a noose,
till one matinee, her bridgework gave way,
and she flew through the air like a goose.
-- Daffy Duck
Nor was that my only adventure. I was wearing a loose pair of old gym shorts, which have a tendency to work their way down my hips when I stretch upward. So at one point, I found myself on a ladder halfway between the porch and the ceiling, holding a can of paint in my left hand and a paintbrush in my right, with my shorts slipping down over my hips and heading toward my knees. On a public street. Once again, I managed to descend with dignity and care and correct everything without losing a drop of paint.
Still, I'm a messy painter, and glad to have the job over and done with. I especially hate any kind of ladder work, even if it's not very far off the ground. In any case, I'm almost completely done with outdoor fix-it jobs for this season.