May 8, 2008
When you spend most the hours of your work day on the ground of a roofing project, you're bound to inhale a few things. Working on a hundred year old shingle roof, however, you're certain to inhale a lot of crap.
I think my favorite moment was when I blew my nose one morning into my yellow paisley hanky and saw black boogers. Sorry, I mean snot. No boogers--they were sticky. That's when you know you've been cleaning up debris from a shingle roof. Or getting it dumped on your head.
Showing posts with label Diary of a Carpenter's Daughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Diary of a Carpenter's Daughter. Show all posts
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Diary of a Carpenter's Daughter
May 21, 2008
I don't like spiders. I mean, I really don't like spiders. This can pose a problem when one is doing construction: having to crawl under trailers to fix something, tearing apart a deck, ripping up a roof.
The first two are particularly prime locations. Dad has stories of coming out from underneath homes after inspecting the foundation or the plumbing, only to find a Black Widow spider somewhere on his clothing and narrowly escaping a bite. Various kinds of spiders, large and small, loved the deck we ripped up last summer as well, but at least I wasn't confined in a small space.
Surprisingly, though, the roof we're working on down river hasn't been too much of a spider problem. No, it's been living inside the building we're working on that's posed the problem. Most specifically, spiders in the bedroom.
Daddy Long-legs don't really bother me [although I really wish I hadn't just looked them up on Wikipedia]; neither do itty bitty or small jumping spiders. My reaction to them is non-threatening. Any spider that is bigger than a dime, hairy, black, or a round body, however, and I am so out of there.
Some sort of dime-sized, hairy, black spider has just crawled across my sleepy bag and disappeared between the side of the bed and the wall. I'm not sure how well I am going to sleep tonight.
I don't like spiders. I mean, I really don't like spiders. This can pose a problem when one is doing construction: having to crawl under trailers to fix something, tearing apart a deck, ripping up a roof.
The first two are particularly prime locations. Dad has stories of coming out from underneath homes after inspecting the foundation or the plumbing, only to find a Black Widow spider somewhere on his clothing and narrowly escaping a bite. Various kinds of spiders, large and small, loved the deck we ripped up last summer as well, but at least I wasn't confined in a small space.
Surprisingly, though, the roof we're working on down river hasn't been too much of a spider problem. No, it's been living inside the building we're working on that's posed the problem. Most specifically, spiders in the bedroom.
Daddy Long-legs don't really bother me [although I really wish I hadn't just looked them up on Wikipedia]; neither do itty bitty or small jumping spiders. My reaction to them is non-threatening. Any spider that is bigger than a dime, hairy, black, or a round body, however, and I am so out of there.
Some sort of dime-sized, hairy, black spider has just crawled across my sleepy bag and disappeared between the side of the bed and the wall. I'm not sure how well I am going to sleep tonight.
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