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It
always amazes me how any moron with a credit
card can rent heavy equipment, but here we
are, swaying in the bucket of a 40-foot
articulated aerial lift to make some urgent
repairs to the exterior of our 113-year-old
building. I had a healthy amount of apprehension
in undertaking this task, all the moreso because
some residents are forever haunted by a horrific
accident 20
years ago when a rookie painter lifted
himself into a power line, caught fire, and
plunged dead to the ground--all because he was
trying to get a better view of the Blue Angels,
which is just one
more reason not to like them. So I set the
speed control firmly to turtle and enlisted a
neighbor to spot for me as I cautiously
figured out the operation and range of motion of
this versatile tool. Suddenly I smelled
something burning. Was it the worker's ghost?
Nah, only smoke.
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