I spent my afternoon gutting an attic. It's really, really, hard. For one, it was 95 degrees outside today, and I was in an attic, just inches away from black tar-paper roof. Wearing blue jeans, a bandana around my head, and a mask over my mouth. Then there's drywall. It doesn't look heavy. I think it might weigh the same as cement. First you knock it off the wall with a hammer, and hope it doesn't land on you on the way down. When the floor is littered in drywall, you grab a 20 lb shovel and start scooping it out the window. There's also wood. Strips of wood with nails in them. That's really what makes the job exciting, getting rid of the wood without impaling hands or feet.
None of this is bad, really. I don't mind the heat, or nails, or shoveling drywall. The actualy knocking down the wall part is a lot of fun; I haven't made that much of a racket in years. Manual labor is not what gets to me. The real thing about this job that makes me HATE it: insulation. The pink, cotton candy insulation. It looks harmless enough. But this substance must have been brewed in the deepest chasm of hell.
Let's see how I can explain this. Take some glass and grind it down to powder-sized shards - smaller than sand. Spin that into pink cotton. The put on you regular t-shirt and jeans, and roll in it. You end up with something that looks like a rash, but must be hundreds of microscopic lacerations. My job was to scrape all of the insulation out of the wall and scoop it all into trash bags. I did have gloves, but they only protected my hands and wrists. My arms and neck were getting eaten alive by this stuff. I would not dream it possible to be working my butt off in 115 degree heat and wish desperately for a long-sleeved shirt.
Who would invent something like this? Why is it legal? Can't people just crumple up newspaper and put that in their walls? It's so pink and fluffy and innocent looking and then it eats away at your skin. Look, leporasy in a bag! Yay!
So, only three more days of pink, fluffy hell. And I will be much more prepared. Bigger lunch, boombox, and sleeves. Glorious sleeves.
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1 comment:
Rachel: As the mason said to Tommy, who was looking down to him 12' under ground laying blocks:
"This is why you want to stay in school."
And to quote another wise man, Grandpa Dale:
"Pick a job you can grow old in."
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