The legend of a man is out there in the wastes. He owns five ladders. Some of fiberglass, some of aluminum and iron, some of wood. He is the Man of Five Ladders
The man of five ladders does not use a chair; he does not count footstools.
He paints w/ a sprayer in either hand and has done so twice on his two story house at age 37 and again at 59. When he does this the third time in twenty or so years, he will surely die. So says the nagging oracle he mates with. But the battle must be waged every time the scourge returns, the dragon
of decay will be defeated for the new owner (to paint over or demolish).
The Man of Five Ladders also must hang Xmas lights, having nailed the hooks w/ the BIG ladder and now using an extending pole each year, so as not unsheathe, and to bring out into the light, the mother of all ladders in size, after which a cheery-picker rental is required. If you don't need a rope to raise the ladder, it is a fall that won't kill you; only maim.
The Man with Five Ladders, you may wonder how I know him?
I am that man.