Before I stagger off to bed this evening, doubtless to dream of chaos, fine powdery dust, and jackhammer noise, a little blogmoanscript creeps from my fingers and tired body and brain.
The dining room floor tiles have been removed, and there are tile chips everywhere. Even more everywhere is the fine dust covering everything. Although I moved as many things as possible out of the way (or so I thought) I did not realise that the whole ground floor would be covered by fine white powder.
Tomorrow the stairlifts are to be removed, the kitchen tiles are to be jackhammered out and removed, and Dr P's furniture is to be collected by its buyer. It all sounds simple enough. Conceptually rather than practically. Once the stairlifts are removed, it should be easier for the large wardrobe to be brought downstairs . What went up must come down. The buyers have kindly agreed to take away Dr P's large old desk, and donate it elsewhere. It is a big old style desk, many years pre-computer, and not much practical use these days. Except for the ubiquitous plasticine creations. Little black blobs of plasticine were discovered tonight, when I crawled underneath it to check for nasties. Obviously plasticine breeds at night.
What I should have done before Fernando started was to cover things with sheets. A lot of washing, wiping and covering was necessary. I have done all that now, and hope that this will limit the fallout somewhat. It probably won't, though. It is a very open plan house, with hardly a door to be found. I have carted as many things as possible upstairs, but am rather perplexed about what to do with the contents of the shelving units in the breakfast area. There are far too many cookery books on them.
More damage is being progressively uncovered, such as the doors being rather rotted away by the damp. The damp smells awful.
When I was a young thing, the prevailing culture was that The Man of the House was supposed to take care of all such problems. Such myths and fairy stories bear little relation to reality.
The dining room floor tiles have been removed, and there are tile chips everywhere. Even more everywhere is the fine dust covering everything. Although I moved as many things as possible out of the way (or so I thought) I did not realise that the whole ground floor would be covered by fine white powder.
Tomorrow the stairlifts are to be removed, the kitchen tiles are to be jackhammered out and removed, and Dr P's furniture is to be collected by its buyer. It all sounds simple enough. Conceptually rather than practically. Once the stairlifts are removed, it should be easier for the large wardrobe to be brought downstairs . What went up must come down. The buyers have kindly agreed to take away Dr P's large old desk, and donate it elsewhere. It is a big old style desk, many years pre-computer, and not much practical use these days. Except for the ubiquitous plasticine creations. Little black blobs of plasticine were discovered tonight, when I crawled underneath it to check for nasties. Obviously plasticine breeds at night.
What I should have done before Fernando started was to cover things with sheets. A lot of washing, wiping and covering was necessary. I have done all that now, and hope that this will limit the fallout somewhat. It probably won't, though. It is a very open plan house, with hardly a door to be found. I have carted as many things as possible upstairs, but am rather perplexed about what to do with the contents of the shelving units in the breakfast area. There are far too many cookery books on them.
More damage is being progressively uncovered, such as the doors being rather rotted away by the damp. The damp smells awful.
When I was a young thing, the prevailing culture was that The Man of the House was supposed to take care of all such problems. Such myths and fairy stories bear little relation to reality.
4 comments:
Really cheap plastic drop cloths from Bunnings and a bit of masking tape. We had our fireplace hearth jackhammered out last year - I could not believe where that dust managed to land!!!
The Man of the House is more than a fairy tale, he has less truth to him than the Easter bunny.
And how I feel for you. I remember just how much dust that dreadful process called 'rubbing down' caused when last we had the hovel painted. And they are not fond memories.
Good luck. Retire upstairs with a good book or six and a bottle of something pleasant.
Gawd, how stressful. In a week, you won't know yourself!
We have just had our balconies redone and I am still trying to get all the resulting dust cleared up.
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