A Hateful Task

Sanding plaster, that is.

It makes the finest white powder which floats in the air, eventually settling on your clothing, on your skin, in your hair, in your eyes, in your lungs.

Shame I'm wearing pale clothes, as you are not getting the
full benefit of the all over dusted with talc look.

Stéphane sanded our spare bedroom and both bathrooms, Simon did the office, so now it's my turn in the kitchen. Stéphane is busy working for a stonemason, Simon is allergic to the dust now, so if we want to paint the kitchen anytime soon, I have to sand the plaster smooth.

I dutifully wore the protective gear - a proper thick mask with a vent and safety goggles. These come in 'one size fits nobody'. In order to get the mask to seal adequately and prevent the goggles fogging up when I breathed out I had to tighten it so much the metal nose band hurt. I could move it down a bit, but that just squashed my nose and made breathing difficult. If I loosened it up my breath leaked out the top and under the safety goggles. What with moisture on the inside and plaster dust on the outside, I was removing them every few minutes to wipe them off.

Louisa's idea of an impromptu lunch -
and this was just the first of 4 courses!

On Monday I was rescued at midday by my friend Louisa, who came round to invite me to lunch as she had someone she wanted me to meet turn up. Yesterday I ran out of sandpaper by lunchtime. Today, having finished the walls despite having dodged the job two afternoons in a row I am working on the ceiling. Extra double yuk!

Susan