The height of the windows from the inside is one thing. The height from outside is just a little bit more. Look carefully, and a small person in navy blue should be visible next to that red space elevator leaning against the building. Near the top of that ladder is where I've spent two of my recent afternoons.
In preparation for winter and to protect the wood storm window frames and trim from its effects, I've been scraping out old glazing and paint while trying to balance comfortably on the narrow ladder rungs.
The view from there isn't always pretty, either:
What is that cloudy stuff on the inside of the glass?! I don't know, but I really didn't want to leave it there. We hadn't been planning to take the storm windows down, and Paul was reluctant to undertake that project, even though it would be the only way to clean it up. What to do? Leave it there to spoil the look of the freshly painted windows? Or spend a lot more time on each window than we'd originally thought?
The answer came in a way I would have rathered it didn't:
Yes, that's a crack. I applied to much force on the putty knife in trying to get out that old, stubborn, dried-out glazing, and I cracked the glass. Argh.
Long story short, Paul climbed the ladder to take a look at the situation and began taking out the panes of glass. Now I'm cleaning the windows (I still don't know what that stuff is, and it's awfully stubborn about coming off!), and he's being more particular about removing the old paint from the wooden frame.
It would seem that to do the job right we can't just paint the weathered wood; because of its age and condition we need a wood restoring product that will allow the paint to properly adhere for years to come.
It's not that I don't like hanging out with a paint scraper in the upper strata of the troposphere, but I'd really prefer to do the job right the first time and do something more enjoyable a second time.