Saturday, June 23, 2018

werk

I've been spending a lot of time doing drywall work lately. The only skills I have in this area, I learned from volunteer work with St. Bernard Project and Habitat for Humanity. It's a man's world, especially at the hardware store--snide comments, the assumption that the little lady doesn't know what she's doing, elaborate explanations of simple concepts--with the exception of Dunn Lumber, where a very nice woman helped me buy a bucket of joint compound and discussed mesh versus paper tape, without any implication that my vagina might hold me back.
That said, once I have all my supplies and tools ready to go (including this gem), I truly enjoy the work. Measuring, cutting, fitting, sanding, drilling, taping, mudding and eventually priming and painting.
You get sweaty and dirty.
Maybe a blister or two.
You can see your progress.
You curse your mistakes and then figure out how to fix them.
You give yourself one-on-one motivational speeches.
You finish, legs and back aching, take a step back, and see how far you've come.

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