Want to hear a really bad idea?
Climb up on a 16-foot ladder while holding a paint scrapper that has a pointy edge jutting out like a knife. Oh, and make sure the roof where your face will be inches away from has bees living under it. And also, spray that area with hornet spray so it's dripping down getting your ladder all nice and slippery ... not to mention toxic.
So after reading that, are you surprised I'm alive to tell the tale? I sure as hell am amazed. Ironically, the worst that happened to me is that my nerves are completely shot from being scared out of my wits and pissed off to such an extreme measure. I did manage to fall/jump off the ladder once when a bee flew in my face. I stabbed myself in the thigh with the knife part of the scrapper, but that only drew a little blood. Not as bad as the agitation I'm experiencing right now.
Worst of all, I couldn't paint all of the trim because of a fear of heights I apparently have. So there's still exposed wood out there, waiting higher than I can reach from the sixth rung on the ladder to get ruined by winter.
I wonder if it's too late to back out of this whole home-buying thing and move back to the apartment. Sigh ...