I am convinced that my home improvement efforts are fixin’ t’kill me. There was the drywall dust, mold, rust, and fiberglass insulation floating around my bathroom demo. There’s whatever was in the shop vac exhaust from whatever I cleaned before the shower demo that smells like dirt every time I run it. And in a surprise guest appearance yesterday, there was the rotting, moldy carpet and carpet pad and wooden strips under those in my office, victims of a leaky humidifier that had done far more damage than I realized, which had gone so far and smelled so disgusting that I had to remove it outright and get it out of the house. The vacuum (which I used in initial attempts at cleaning and which now harbors that same vile aroma) may be next. It’s in the garage at the moment. And I find myself with a cough that won’t quit. Day and night, there’s a tickle in the back of my throat that will not let me be, provoking my hacking up a lung on an hourly basis.
Yes, the respirator is ordered; I’ll pick it up tomorrow, and I hope it’s not too late, and that my lungs are not harboring some evil mold that is even now plotting to suffocate me eventually. But it’s a lot of damn work, ripping out a room full of carpet, especially with all the furnishings still in the room that you have to shuffle around and then put back. After you ignored your brother’s suggestion to cut the carpet into strips to get it out of the room more easily and instead stubbornly wrestled the barely rolled up entirety through 3 doors out into the back yard. This, on top of a busy week with my brother and his family in town, has left me absolutely exhausted. Last night, I was so tired, I sat on the couch with one sock and one clog on, the other sock in my hands, staring into space for a long time, trying to work up the energy to finish dressing my feet. Whence comes this very brief missive; for any of you who have told me, or merely thought privately, that my posts are too long, this one goes out to you. Enjoy.