Dry dirt drives me to absolute distraction. I cannot abide my hands, feet (or any part of me) touching anything like sawdust, or even sand. I am a real bummer at the beach. The sand has to be wet. Dirt has to be wet (mud). Argh. Gives me the heebie jeebies just to think about it. Writing this now and looking at this pic is making my skin crawl. Apparently there is nothing I won't do for a little money, haha. The smell of a saw blade cutting through wood literally closes up my throat and I cannot breathe. My father was/is a carpenter, and then I married one. What on earth was I thinking? I have perfected the "tee-shirt up over my nose" move, so I can't smell that burning hot wood smell or breathe in the dust. Can you tell I have issues? Lol. Lest you for some strange reason think I am without flaw:-)
|Proof that I was working, productively. And flip flops because its 75 degrees here this week (oh yah!)|
At one point, while wiping down the living room, with Brian behind me putting poly in the dining room (with all the kids in the backyard playing:-) my nose was running like a tap, and I said "wow, this stuff sure does make your nose run". Brian replies, "yah, that pretty much means you're dying". Lovely. There were lots of fumes going on around there thats for sure!
|Starting to wipe down one of the bedrooms with mineral spirits|