It’s a thankless job. To all of the professional drywallers out there–cheers! People who drywall for a living have my utmost respect because they can whip out a room in no time, whereas it takes me weeks. I am to drywalling what Rickie Weeks is to baseball. Anyways, I just finished texturing the ceiling for the nursery. I’ve come a long way in the past couple years from my first attempt (our cross wall) until now. I didn’t bomb the floor with unnecessary slop. I wasn’t covered in mud, only splattered. I finally figured out the right consistancy to get a good texture while minimizing mess. And yes, I textured by hand. By the time I could borrow a texture gun, hook up the air compressor, spray, then clean it all, I would be done. It only took me an hour. That’s pretty cool.
So where’s the fun? Sarah was helping me mix mud–adding water, mixing, filling my pan so I could keep at it. It was good, non-stress time. The funny-ness happened when it came time to clean up. I picked up the putty knives to scrape them off, and the handles were covered in mud. I pride myself in a clean operation, which is why I’m a teacher and not a construction worker. But I’ve gotten the hang of mudding without getting crap all over the handles. Sarah, on the other hand, was like a kid in a sandbox, sitting there cross legged with a smile, talking away. “Sorry,” she smiled as I chuckled outside to the hose. Fun image. The best part is, I’m done with the ceiling and there weren’t any fights about it. Halelujah!