February 16, 2003

I've got my respirator. My airway is protected. I've got my goggles, too, to cover the precious peepers. I've got plastic taped over the doorways. But my arms are bare, and I know that the dreaded powder will work its way into my shirt and my pants. First will come the initial symptom: the itching, and then the terrible red rash. I'll be lucky if I survive.

No, not a chemical attack by Muslim fanatics with Iraqi-supplied weapons.

Today, I sand spackle in the hallway, and it is a grim, dusty business.

After the initial frenzy of activity when we first moved into Peapod, there has been an extended lull. At first, there was weeks' worth of floor sanding! And painting! And brave attempts to cover up years of neglect with extra-thick primer and multiple coats of Whimsical Blue. Then...all was quiet.

Then came: The Door. See, the previous owners--the man of the house being of the crashing around violently while inebriated sort--had at one point smashed in the original bedroom door, fracturing its lock-side stile. Then, for reasons unknown, he chopped off the bottom eight inches of the door, perhaps a failed attempt to get it to fit into one of the smaller attic room doorways upstairs. At any rate: the project, like so many others in the house, was abandoned, and the door banished to the basement. The bedroom door was replaced with a another door, the Piece Of Shit model manufactured by Cheap N' Hollow Doors.

When I decided to clamp and glue the old bedroom door to repair the damage and restore it to its rightful place, I didn't know about the missing portion of the bottom rail. This I cleverly discovered after said gluing and clamping, when I noticed that although the door was the right width, there seemed to be a slight monstrous gap between the top of the door and the top of the jamb. This would not do! And was made amusing only by the fact that I had not primed and painted the door before discovering the unholy handiwork of Bucky.

So I, brave and intrepid new owner of various power tools, high-tailed it to the local woodmonger and procured a piece of spruce, which, with much drilling, gluing, dowel-pounding, and cursing, I caused to become affixed to the bottom of the mistreated door. Then followed many days of sanding, and trimming, and moderate mangling, all finished up by priming and painting. At which point the bedroom door jamb needed to be rebuilt, suffering as it was from the enraged drunken foot of Bucky. This required the purchase of the Porter-Cable 10 Amp Variable Speed Tiger Saw with Case. This is, truly, a devastating weapon, and will be used to cut apart the old front porch in the Spring, which should be great fun.

Once the jamb was repaired, I made merry with the chisel, and lo! Mounted new brass hinges upon the jamb, and then hung the door, so that it swings to and fro with wild abandon. A door reborn! There was great rejoicing. Never mind that the door is somewhat narrower at the top and bottom than it is in the middle. 'Tis a door, and it opens and closes, which must be fulfilling for it, being so forlorn and cobwebbed in the dank basement as it was.

But the hallway remained...shorn of its terrible brown paneling, dotted with spackle, it mocked me by its very unfinished nature. Today, though, I have cried enough! And let loose the dogs of soft foam sanding blocks. There will be the stink of primer in the house tonight, or I am no man! And by Monday's eve, fresh yellow color will glow, and the white of the semi-glossed trim will semi-shine. This, I declare!

And I mean it, I do. Even now spackle dust is sucking life-giving moisture from my hair and beard, and is working its way throughout the entire house. Soon there will be vacuuming with the Amazing Handy Shop-Vac. And then the brushes shall be unsheathed and the latex pigment will spill, hot and copious. Take heed! Thou trembling home, thou unfinished domicile, thou half-done dwelling! I shall take thee to task with rough paper and brushes of fine horse-tail, and I will be avenged!

For what, I'm not sure, exactly. But watch out! There's work to be done.