Under Construction
Visitors to this space may remember that last winter we developed a leak in the roof which thoroughly soaked YG's closet. Once the leak was contained and repaired, we had to rip out all the soggy plaster and bags-full of damp mousy non-fiberglass insulation, leaving in place the lath and studs on the ceiling, the full left wall, and half the rear wall. Then we let it dry out. Then inertia took over and we did nothing despite the fact that the closet was as dry as it was going to get.
Yesterday I more-or-less frog-marched Spouse to Home Despot to buy Sheetrock(tm) to put new walls in. The suasion was required, not because the man is lazy, but because his standards for his own work are so high that he can get paralyzed at the thought of trying to meet them. I (at least where construction and repairs are concerned) am more of the get-it-done than the get-it-done-perfectly school--I'd love to have it done perfectly, by someone other than me, but since the exchequer does not permit that right now, just getting it done was enough for me. The first part was cutting the Sheetrock into manageable bits that would fit in the car--the thought of our brave little Civic with two 4X8 pieces of Sheetrock strapped on top led to a montage of those pre-Wright Bros. flying machines that achieve lift-off then crash hideously. No. I had made a cutting pattern (all those years of working with Butterick patterns leaves its mark) and we sat on the floor of Home Despot, using a 2X4 as a straightedge and cutting the Sheetrock. This seemed to amuse the nice people who work there--they'll cut lumber for you, but not Sheetrock--and I found myself revising the store motto as we worked: "You can do it! We can watch!"
Got home. Further demolition proved to be necessary (the top of the right wall) which took an hour or so. Then the actual cutting to size and screwing of the bits into place. The ceiling piece was the toughest; after that things went pretty quickly. I learned that one can use a planer to take down the edge of Sheetrock (which makes perfect sense, it just never occurred to me before) and that a fully-charged battery on the drill is never quite enough to finish the job you're doing. By evening the closet was done, YG had gone through many of the clothes and realized that they could be added to the Garage Sale/Katrina pile, and her room had been tidied again. We will still have to fill and tape and prime and paint the closet, but that's for another day. Hopefully another nine months will not go by before it happens, however.
Yesterday I more-or-less frog-marched Spouse to Home Despot to buy Sheetrock(tm) to put new walls in. The suasion was required, not because the man is lazy, but because his standards for his own work are so high that he can get paralyzed at the thought of trying to meet them. I (at least where construction and repairs are concerned) am more of the get-it-done than the get-it-done-perfectly school--I'd love to have it done perfectly, by someone other than me, but since the exchequer does not permit that right now, just getting it done was enough for me. The first part was cutting the Sheetrock into manageable bits that would fit in the car--the thought of our brave little Civic with two 4X8 pieces of Sheetrock strapped on top led to a montage of those pre-Wright Bros. flying machines that achieve lift-off then crash hideously. No. I had made a cutting pattern (all those years of working with Butterick patterns leaves its mark) and we sat on the floor of Home Despot, using a 2X4 as a straightedge and cutting the Sheetrock. This seemed to amuse the nice people who work there--they'll cut lumber for you, but not Sheetrock--and I found myself revising the store motto as we worked: "You can do it! We can watch!"
Got home. Further demolition proved to be necessary (the top of the right wall) which took an hour or so. Then the actual cutting to size and screwing of the bits into place. The ceiling piece was the toughest; after that things went pretty quickly. I learned that one can use a planer to take down the edge of Sheetrock (which makes perfect sense, it just never occurred to me before) and that a fully-charged battery on the drill is never quite enough to finish the job you're doing. By evening the closet was done, YG had gone through many of the clothes and realized that they could be added to the Garage Sale/Katrina pile, and her room had been tidied again. We will still have to fill and tape and prime and paint the closet, but that's for another day. Hopefully another nine months will not go by before it happens, however.
posted by Madeleine Robins at 10:11 AM
4 Comments:
"The suasion was required, not because the man is lazy, but because his standards for his own work are so high that he can get paralyzed at the thought of trying to meet them."
This is my ENTIRE FAMILY, or at least my husband, my son, and me. Can't start the task because you can't do it perfectly. Don't get me started about my son and his drawings and how many he rips up.
My CAPTCHA word is "jhhola", which sounds like it should come with raita and naan.
"CAPTCHA word?" Que es? Jhhola does sound appetizing.
A Captcha is the random sequence of letters you have to type in to Web pages to prove you're not only human, but not vision-impaired.
It's an acronym for "completely automated public Turing test to tell
computers and humans apart". I knew you'd want to know.
Indeed, I did!
My CAPTCHA word is "ozxmmkc" which sounds like a rudimentary stone tool wielded by northern European nomads. Or something.
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