I spent the day in my studio… listening to Willa Cather’s O Pioneers! and repeatedly raising an OSB sheet to my ceiling.
Since the walls are neither straight nor square, I had to continually trim more and more from the edges, of course, lifting/cranking/sawing/cursing/hammering/shoving it back into place each time.
It took six tries, but I’m satisfied.
I’m also tired and sore!
It looks pretty pitiful. One lone 4′ x not quite 8′ sheet for a day’s work.
Tomorrow’s sheet I hope will be a tad faster… but I have to put it around the ceiling light… another challenge.
I only have two more sheets on this side of the studio to do… I imagine the other side will have to wait until the concrete is poured.
I whine and cry and flail pitifully throughout the day as I struggle along. I could hire this done. But there is Something, Something that, at the end of the day, echoes of Accomplishment. That *I* did it. That my dad’s instructions in carpentry may not have been in vain… That following my brother like a puppy from construction sites to hardware stores is more than worshiping an older brother who happens to be an amazing carpenter…
I may curse the lack of paid assistance… there’s no minions about, either… but Maybe… after all is said and done, I’ll be proud to say “I did it myself.”
(minus the electricity. and the concrete. and maybe the windows. whatever.)Find me here!