I have another weekend story. This time at least it’s not the entire weekend, just Sunday. Everything was going great, well not so great as Amie and I were spending most of the day down in the basement doing some drywall finishing and there’s nothing great about that. Finishing involves mudding, taping and of course sanding. This part of the project is turning out to be quite the nightmare.
After Amie left for work, I was left alone with this pet project that had suddenly turned into a monster. I was dusty and white from the dust and not in a very good mood. Everything I attempted seemed unwilling to go right. Yes, I was mad and getting madder by the minute.
I finally made it to clean up time. In fact my stomach made that decision for me. I took out the shop vac and started to clean up the dust spilled on the carpet on the steps. (As luck would have it, Amie’s dad was trying to take out a garbage back filled with bits and pieces of drywall and swept-up dust, when the bag broke spilling its contents all over the carpet and floor upstairs). The vac did not have a filter and immediately the dust was spewed into the air, triggering the smoke alarms. For a few seconds, I froze and just stared at the alarm. Seriously? This is not happening now.
Then I came to and calmly went upstairs to await the call that would come from my alarm company checking to see if my house was on fire. I had to answer the phone and let them know it was a false alarm or I would get a visit from the Firemen and a nice bill for $100. I wanted neither. The call came right on cue and I grabbed the phone. The darn thing died in my hand before I could say hello! What kind of day was this? Who had it in for me? Why me? Now I was in a throwing-things-across-the-room mad. Somebody get the kids out of the house fast!
I called the company back but the person on the phone said it was too late to stop the firemen from showing up at my door. So again I waited and again they showed up on cue. I opened the door and immediately explained what had happened. The dust mask on my face and the white powder covering most of my clothes and exposed body was a stark testimony to my story. Or to something else.
After the nice fire people were gone, I went on Kijiji and searched for ‘mudder and taper’. I called three of them and made appointments to get quotes. I was sick of this dirty mudder of a job!
The moral of the story? Sometimes you just have to let the pros do it.