Sanding the drywall: slightly better than insulation, worse than everything else

LSW here.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. During our last trip to Shangri-La, we were hell-bent on getting some serious work done. As you can read in the previous post, we met that goal. Let me tell you about it from my perspective.

My first task of the weekend was to sand the rest of the drywall. Physically, this is an easy job. All it takes is some elbow grease and the Vermonster’s specially-made mesh-nailed-to-a-wooden block tool. However, it is also the filthiest, nastiest, nails-on-a-chalkboard kind of job. You sand and sand and fine, powdery dust magically starts to cover everything, including your lungs and your eyeballs. About ten minutes into the action I donned a face mask and sunglasses which helped, but also creates a nice sweat barrier when you’re working. So then you’re sweating and being covered in carcinogenic pixie dust. To make matters worse, the Vermonster is a perfectionist when it comes to this sort of thing whereas I’m more of a “We’ll just stick a cabinet over that seam” type of gal. It’s just not a fun job.

On the other end of the spectrum, however, was more tile work. Of all the jobs I’ve done on the cabin (and admittedly, that’s only a fraction of what the Vermonster has done), I find tiling to be the most satisfying. More specifically, I find grouting to be very calming in a Zen kind of way. Once you get the rhythm done—fill, scrape, wipe, fill, scrape, wipe—you can imagine Mr. Miagi standing there saying, “Wax on, wax off, grasshopper.”

The downside to it all, however, is that you have to stay bent over on your knees all day long. Now that’s fine if you’re 25 years old, but I am not. It all goes to hell after you turn 40. I’m prone to sciatica and I have disc issues in my lower back. I couldn’t stretch out by the end of the day and, of course, we’re sleeping on cots which didn’t improve the situation. Lucky for me, I work at a spa during the week so I was hooked up. As soon as I got home, I passed out on a massage table and let my co-worker have his way with me. A couple of elbows on my pressure points and I was a new woman. Now I’m ready for the next wave of grouting. I’m just thrilled that the dry wall is done.