Laddered

Summer has come back with a fury to Scotland. As a result, the good lady had me up and out of bed early to enjoy the sunshine.

This is actually her own special code for working her man to death.

Particularly, when as is standard on a Sunday, I have a swine of a hangover.

Recently, with the intention of doing some house fixing up-ing, I bought myself a ridiculously long ladder. This thing when extended can happily reach the roof of my house.

The aim was to paint the window frames of the upper floor of our humble abode.

However, when I purchased said ladder. I did not expect the good lady to demand that I do aerial ladder antics when blazingly hungover.

We stood, looking at the ladder propped up at the side of the house whilst the sun flayed the skin from our bones and made my already dehydrated brain simmer in what little skull juice was left.

I don't know chick. I don't think anyone can climb that high.

Of course you can Daddy, you are a man aren't you? This should be nothing to you.

A little valve somewhere in my desiccated shambling corpse of a body squirted out a smidgeon of testosterone. My body jerked as it took hold.

I mean, aye. It's no bother, I just don't really feel like flying so close to the sun today. I am a bit delicate.

From the beer?

The good lady asked, almost innocently.

Something in my brain slammed a lever and attempted to reverse.

Erm, no. I only had a couple...
_{A couple of million more like, a voice chuckled in my head.}

A couple eh. Well, you should be feeling amazing today. You normally have more than that on a Saturday. In fact... you usually get quite pished!

She chortled as if telling herself an amazing joke that had talking prawns in it.

I looked up the ladder again. Then I looked at the good lady.

She was examining me like a hawk would a three-legged mouse.

My choice was quite clear. I could fess up that I stayed up awfully late and drank far too many beers for a man claiming to be a responsible Daddy or I could stick to my claim of only having two beers and continue the charade of not being hungover...

The good lady smirked as if she knew what the choice would be, in fact, I could see the alternate list of chores already being racked up behind her eyes for me to perform.

I smiled the smile of a man who sups soup with the devil and doesn't even bother with a long spoon and grabbed the ladder with one of my meaty man-hands.

Bang the coffee on love. This won't take me long.