I sawed that

It’s the same predicament you’ve all been in – standing on the top of the roof, chain saw-on-a-stick in hand, when you pull the extension cord and knock over the gas can right where the kids are drawing with their chalk.
Really? Just me? Hmm.
It happened the other day when I decided to break my sworn vow to stay away from ladders and chain saws. But I had noticed that a few limbs had grown to the point where they reached the roof-line and, in some instances, were leaning against Parker’s window, meaning when the wind would blow it sounded like badgers were trying to get in.
So I decided to cut them down. I retrieved my chain saw-on-a-stick, affectionately known around the neighborhood as the “bad idea on a stick.” Some of you may recall that I swore off chain saws and ladders last year after nearly killing myself by cutting the tree that my ladder was leaning against. I am skilled that way.
But, a year later, I guess I assumed I was somehow immune to that kind of foolishness. Also my wife was inside and couldn’t see what I was doing and therefore could not stop me.
So I put the ladder up on the tree and headed on up. I was about 12 feet up, and the pole extended out about six feet. At this height, if I jumped I might be able to trim a little of the branch before I crashed to the ground. Even I knew that was a bad idea.
I surveyed my options. The easiest way to get to the limbs would be to get on the rooftop. While I am not scared of heights, I am very much afraid of falling off my second-story roof, which has a pitch at about 80 degrees by my estimate. The next best option would be the roof over the front porch. I would be able to climb up there and extend the saw to my side, trimming the limbs. No sweat.
I perched the ladder up against the house and began my ascent. My wife’s special “My Husband’s an Idiot” sense kicked in and she came outside. I got to the top of the roof and was standing there, straddling the peak. I extended the chain saw and fired it up. It breezed through the first branch, which crashed into the bushes below. Awesome. Perfection. For a second.
The next branch was a little farther away, and I figured I needed a little more extension cord. I gave the cord a quick tug. Little did I know the cord was behind the gas can, which I had failed to put up after gassing up the mower. The cord hit the can, tipping it over, spilling some gas on the driveway. My wife said, “MICHAEL!!!!” And she has mastered numerous inflections to my name, where all she has to say is “MICHAEL!!!” and I will immediately say, “Gas? Where?” (Other “MICHAEL!!!!” calls result in such diverse responses as “I wasn’t looking at her. I was looking at … something behind her” and “But he needs to learn how to use an ax at some point!”)
I looked down and saw the can on its side. It then occurred to me – I am standing on a roof with a chain saw-on-a-stick. I am not really in first responder mode. “Uh, I don’t really think I’m in a position to help right now.”
My wife agreed that she would have two big messes to clean up if I tried to hustle down to our little chemical spill, and instead opted to stand the can upright and move the kids to a different slab of concrete. There wasn’t much spilled, so she and a neighbor were able to serve as warning tape until it evaporated.
Eventually, I was able to finish my trimming without causing any more hazardous situations, on the ground or the roof. I even managed to get off the roof without a hitch. In fact, aside from the gasoline spill, I’d say it was one of the more successful chain saw-on-a-stick plus ladder days I’ve ever had. I should do them more often.
I have a hunch my wife’s special sense just kicked on.