Call up the Grim Reaper, and inform him that now that I have experienced the agony of drywalling a room from start to finish, I do not wish to ever live through said experience ever again.
At first I thought it was fun. I just got to stand there and hold things in place. On occasion, I’d drill a screw into a stud. Sometimes I’d even put up some spackle and smoosh it around.
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| From Daily Daguerreotype |
And then the sanding began. Days upon days of sanding. And more spackle. And then more sanding. And drywall dust in my hair, in my ears, up my nose, in my contacts and in my unmentionables. And then I carried a box upstairs only to realize there was drywall dust ALL OVER EVERYTHING UPSTAIRS. Where no drywall had even set foot.
Now I am in the process of trying to remove the drywall dust from the floor and the ceiling and the WHOLE ENTIRE HOUSE. Two words: Fruitless Effort. The ShopVac no longer sucks anything up, my upright vacuum will most likely need to be replaced, and there is still a FILM of drywall dust on everything.
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| From Daily Daguerreotype |
But here are my new kitchen walls, primed, sealed, delivered… aside from the beam which needs… a bit more spackle and a bit more sanding.
OF COURSE.
