Not a bit. The Stop'N'Shop people have agreed merely to keep me fed, clothed, and paid at the rate of twenty-five dollars a week as long as I stay aloft. Scarcely a fortune. I described in confident and glittering words the height, the hardship and peril, the audacity of my remaining up there at any great length. The difficulty isn't in getting up the pole, you have to realize.
Any idiot can climb stairs.
That's the old rub. So saying, I began scrambling up the seventeen yards to the top. Above the chaise longue is a horizontal bar, which I use for exercise. Beside it is bolted my footlocker, containing clothes, a few books, aspirin. Despite my initial air of self-assurance I should mention that when I first climbed up here, I did so somewhat tentatively.