Imagine walking into a room where about 50 bratty little school children were clapping together chalk erasers. Imagine them slapping them together so successfully that, hours after walking through that cloud of dust, you are pulling white boogers from your nose. This is hypothetical, so girls please feel free to imagine those white boogers. Imagine also that the chalk was so thick that it left a layer of filth on your head, arms, legs, face that when lightly dabbed in water a thick paste forms making it near impossible to rub off. Oh, and just for fun imagine having like NO SHAMPOO AVAILABLE TO WASH SAID PASTE.
That was fun, was it not?
Now remove all the images from your mind and just sit there and think of your ideal night. You've had a long day at work, it is Monday, dinner isn't ready or even planned for that matter, and throw in cramps or a migraine just for the heck of it. So what do you do? Well apparently you come home, HOME, and work for the next several hours creating the above picture. Only the bratty little school children are your good friends. Oh and the white chalk substance is dust from the awful plaster ceiling you (read: YOUR FRIENDS) spent hours, days in fact, scraping off. And that thick paste that forms... keep that one. And also keep the shampoo bit because that was fun to realize. I just used half a bottle of conditioner to *wash* my hair.
Our good friends spent the better part of TWO DAYS scraping the hideous, mind-numbingly awful popcorn-ceiling-gone-made ceiling off. It was super fun for them because we have 12 ft. ceilings. I came in on the convenient tail-end and only had to suffer through a few hours. Don't worry though, I allowed myself several breaks. Fits of coughing and obsessive blinking will make anyone think you deserve a break. Try it next time when we ask you to scrap off our ceiling. You know, next time.
Below are my killer knee pads. Also my cankles. This was pre-season to the festivities. We lined our floor with paper. I hated every moment of that experience.
This is the before shot and I swear to you it doesn't give it justice. I promise, it was bad. Super bad.
This is after the scraping. We are having someone put up drywall and make it all pretty. For some insane reason (read: money) we decided to do the dirty work rather than have someone else do it for us.
It was hard work but I think it brought us all together. We shared the pain of looking straight up for hours at a time. We shared the exhaustion of having your arms raised for what seemed like forever. We shared the frustration when small sections.just.wouldn't.budge. I think we can call ourselves friends for life because of this.
The ceiling now looks like a foreclosure, which is totally awesome, but hopefully after this work week it will look more normal. Good even.