Are you afraid of heights?

Mr. and I have been searching for a new flat for at least half a year already. And we finally found one. It's perfect in everything. Space, light, location, price, neighbourhood, closeness to work and transport and stuff. Perfecto. With one little exception. It's on the seventeenth floor. I know, it sounds rather ridiculous, but I can't physically stomach being anywhere above floor 8-9 or so, unless I absolutely have to. Even climbing up there to check it out gave me creeps and shaky hands. Peeps living and working in cities like NYC, where floor 17 is practically ground level are probably rolling their eyes at me at the moment.

Gawd, I know.  But I'm so afraid of heights it's beyond crazy. I can only get in a plane if I'm very, very inebriated or/and drugged with sedatives to the point where I need to be carried out.  When I had a job which involved trips to other countries about twice a month, it was hell.
When I have chances to go to amazing sites, like Eifel Tower or Empire State building, I always skip, because I'm so chicken.

I even once tried to cure it by the good ole 'fight fire with fire' thing - jumped with a chute. And jumping with a chute in Russia is probably different in several ways - you don't have to attach youself to an instructor, you can jump alone on a wing chute from 1400 meters only after 4 hours of training on the field, which is exactly what I did.  I won't be telling the sordid tale of my jump right now, but lemme just say that it only intensified the fear.

Mr. is very, very angry, because he thinks that living on floor 17 is all sorts of awesome. Ye fates, I hate thee.