Sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the bug

Jeff and I worked several hours at the farmhouse Sunday afternoon. It was hot and humid (of course), and I'm still not over my cold. I didn't realize how out of energy I was until I was carrying load after load of linoleum and underlayment across the porch.

I say "load", but all I could manage was about one scrap at a time. It was heavy and slippery and sticky, all at the same time. I only had to carry it about 15 feet and hand it over the porch railing to Jeff so he could heave it into the dumpster. I was even in the shade! But it still took just about everything I had. And to add insult to injury, the pieces of lino had odd jagged remnants that kept slipping down and scratching my legs. I came away with several battle scars and a tingling sense of deja vu...

(cue the dreamy flashback music and soft cloudy images)

Back in our Arkansas bungalow, we had to redo the living room ceilings. We stripped two layers of acoustical tile off, hoping to reveal plaster. Nope, just the lath and some furring strips.

So plan B was 12 foot sheets of drywall, to minimize the number of seams necessary. We planned a few strategic days off and rented a drywall jack to accomplish the task. And then I got sick. Really sick. But the work had to go on.

Did you know that a drywall jack only lowers to about six feet off the ground? And that 12 x 4 sheets of drywall weigh over 80 pounds? And that a sick Sarah can't lift an awkward 40+ pounds over her head? Nope, neither did we.

I think that one sheet in the above photo was probably the extent of my contribution. After the second or third try, I ended up curled up on the floor sniffling and snotty and sneezing and crying. I just wanted to go to bed. So Jeff called in the sturdy teen reinforcements.

They made the whole project look fairly easy. Except the same drywall jack that couldn't lower enough for me couldn't raise enough for our 10 foot bungalow ceilings. Did you know most drywall jacks are only meant for eight foot ceilings? And that they stop about six inches short of a 10 foot ceiling and require the use of one's head to raise the drywall into the place and screw it up? Nope, neither did we. But the boys managed, and we saved taping and mudding for another day.

And it was all worth it for the beautiful smooth ceiling overhead.
The End.