© 2011 Becca. All rights reserved. the-dust-of-daily-life

Learning new tricks

There are few jobs I have refused to tackle as we meander through this renovation, although you will note no reference ever to the joy of wallpaper stripping. In total I successfully stripped one (wardrobe!) wall. It is a hideous, sticky, hot and steamy, happiness zapper and so all my volunteered help enjoyed this arduous task – perhaps it is also why they all failed to return.

In amongst these DIY “chores” I stumbled upon the opportunity to skim and polish and generally re-fill one very pocked blown plaster wall. Instantaneously the job leapt into pole position as my task of choice. The mere mention of DIY plastering was met by warning calls of the difficulty, the skill required, reassurance that a plasterer’s steep hourly rate was worth every penny.

Red rag to a bull.

And so I found myself in the masonry aisle of B&Q staring at mounds of white cement filled bags and wondering where the fuck to start. I knew I needed ‘One Coat’ but I was standing in front of everything from ‘General Purpose One Coat’ to ‘One Coat Plaster Adhesive’ to ‘One Coat Finishing Plaster’.  Haha, really should have Googled.

Phone calls to Other Half, Joiner and Father all proved fruitless. I swear if I were crumpled in a car wreck they would all be busy but if all I needed to check was the time they would all pick up. By now two B&Q staffers had wandered past and nonchalantly pondered, did I need any help. For whatever reason my answer was of course no. Do girls have some in-built feminist streak that rears its head whenever males might just triumph in the knowledge stakes?

Eventually, after much deliberating and reading of the back of 25kg packets of powdered render Father returned call and sat Googling the required information whilst I re-re-read the backs of packs. Patience is not a virtue I claim to have mastered so within a couple of minutes I had hung up in furious, impatient determination. At which point a male I had failed to notice stepped over and invited himself into the phone conversation I had just bailed out of with a cautious, ‘from what I heard I think you need this bag’.

‘It is quick, fast drying and easy to use and will affix onto any surface’. Melting into smiles and sickening damsel-in-distress self-deprecation I thanked Builder Man and he left me to re-organise my trolley and collect my powder.

Over zealously grabbing the first bag on the pile I bear hugged the paper casing and with one sharp fut of air was blasted with plaster dust as it escaped through the very large tear down one side. Now encased in plaster I decided I would just rub myself against the wall and be done with it.

It fell off pretty quickly as I traipsed a trail of white powder through B&Q so I persevered and purchased two bags of plaster, one of Gyproc adhesive and one of grout. Nice Cashier offered to chuck the bags back onto my trolley once I had transacted and as I reached the car another offered to load the bags into the boot. And who says chivalry is dead? Or maybe the Blondes have more fun theory rings true, watching Burly Passer By bear hug my bag of plaster and get a full force of plaster dust fired into his face was laugh out loud funny! That’ll teach you to be a sexist prick. Girls can lift stuff, let that be a lesson to you. However, it saved me running around the car park trying to shake off another coating.

 

 

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