Tippytoes / by Dana Bergstrom

After drywalling ceilings on Fixer Upper #2, our arms felt like they were gonna fall outta their sockets.

So instead of morphing into bloody, appendage-less torsos on our third house [cue Monty Python!], we invested in a handy dandy sheet rock lift.

The lift is MONSTROUS and a real pain in the ass to store, but we're always very happy it's available when it comes to ceiling work.

The other day we were hanging sheet rock, pondering our luxurious existence with this magnificent lift - LIVING LIKE FANCY DRYWALL ROYALTY - when we discovered it was too large to fit in the hallway.

Huh.

I was surprised to realize I wasn't even slightly disappointed.

Guess I kinda missed the physical challenge of holding two arms above my head for long periods of time!

Ya know, there is something super satisfying about being pushed beyond one's physical limits and feeling it in the body afterwards. Makes ya feel alive!

So we measured and cut the sheet rock and as we both lifted it to the ceiling, Pauly said,

"Use a helper stick. It's too tall for you."

"NO WAY!", I shouted.

I really wanted to feel the burn.

"I'M ON MY TIPTOES BECAUSE IT'S MORE FUN!"

He shook his head and grunted.

"Okay. Whatever you want, TIPPYTOES."

I dunno why the word "tippytoes" makes me laugh really hard, but I had to keep some sort of composure as I was completely stretched out from my raised arms to little piggies, LITERALLY holding up the ceiling.

So now Pauly's taken to calling me MISS TIPPYTOES whenever I start to get too serious.

The other day, while running errands, I was considering dropping
dead from low blood sugar, but Pauly suggested that we stop at Wendy's instead.

The kid at the counter assembled our order and then apprehensively and with obvious embarrassment, called out the name I'd given the cashier,

TIPPY...

there was an awkward pause before he said in a low, quiet voice...

TOES.

I pretended to be all sneaky, like some kind of new Batman villain, walking on tiptoes with T-Rex arms in my paint stained overalls, as the entire staff of Wendy's kitchen moved toward the front to see exactly what kind of nut-job they were about to encounter.

I looked at everybody straight In the eyes.

As soon as I grabbed the tray, we all burst into crazy laughter.

And even though the food wasn't all that tasty, Miss Tippytoes leveled out her sugars and she smiled through the entire meal.