My Arms Are Killing Me

I’m not a strong man.  Never have been.  Save a few moments here and there, I’ve never really cared.  I can do a handful of push-ups when needed.  I can lift most of the rocks I’ve been slinging around for the rock wall and those I can’t I figure out some way to cheat a little. 
And because of my genetics and artful dodging of the gym, my arms are killing me right now.  I’ve convinced myself that the worst part of the “Paint the Unfinished Beadboard Wood Ceiling a Nice Off-White” project will be the sanding of the ceiling.  I am now further convinced that the sanding portion will never end.

I’ve talked myself into a break that will involve whining about it to you.  Unfortunately, that involves typing at this keyboard, which uses my arms.  The arms are looking at their options, including unionizing for better work conditions, outsourcing the job to India and outright revolt.  So, this break is for their benefit, not mine.  I’m not the wimp, they are.  Can I disavow my own limbs?

The sanding of the beadboard ceiling isn’t going quickly.  The quality is okay, but boy, pushing that little palm sander up against the ceiling is taking a toll on my wings.  But that is only half the story.

The well-sealed kitchen.

 I have had the worst luck with safety implements.  For this job, there are three things that I am interested in protecting:  my eyes, my airway and my hearing.  I started the job yesterday with the following setup:  Safety glasses for the eyes, my massive dual filter respirator thingy for the airway, and my trusty headphone style ear protection for the ol’ hearing. 

This is a tough job because, for maximum leverage using my afore-mentioned sub-par arms, I need to be pretty close to the ceiling and the palm sander, a Porter-Cable Quicksand.  The palm sander is mildly loud and I’m close to it so the hearing protection is nice, but it is not a deal-breaker.  Since the palm sander is (when I lean into it enough) churning out wood dust, the airway is quite important.  I don’t want to be inhaling it straight from the source.  It only took a few minutes of using the safety glasses to realize the importance of full protection of the eyes.  The dust was streaming right in and forming gooey brown globs.

I quickly switched to my awesome Dr. Horrible safety goggles.  The impact-resistant glass was a bit of overkill, but they seal to the face and don’t allow dust in.  Apparently, they don’t allow moisture out, either.  After a few turns on the sander, the round specs were fogging up.  Since I had to finish up for the day, I attempted to push through without eye protection and suffered dearly for it.  After a half hour, I was pulling enough crap out of my eyes I could have used it fill holes in the beadboard.  And no, contacts don’t help.  In fact, they seem to make it worse somehow.

So, today is a new day.  I brought in new options, but that meant compromises.  My starting lineup looked like this:  trusty headphone ear protection and Kris’ sweet dive goggles for the sealed-up eye protection that is vital, but I had to bag on the airway.  The nose is covered by the mask, but not the mouth.  I can’t get the respirator over the mask.  Oh well, right?  No.  It didn’t take long before I got tired of rinsing down the dust coating in my throat with coffee. 

Today's cast of characters. 

 Aha!  A bandana.  That would work, right?  It does, but I quickly return to the fogging issue of the day before.  I even try the thing where you spit in the mask and swish it around, but that doesn’t make any difference.  Eventually some of the water runs up my nose as I tilt my head backward to look through the ever-smaller unfogged portion of the window.  That’s the end of diving mask.

To add insult to injury, it is the end of trusty headphone-style ear protection as well, as the plastic piece that fits over the head snaps in half.  Sad.  Trusty headphone ear protection and I have been through a lot together.  Many cords of firewood, wanton destruction with a saws-all during renovation, planing hundreds of feet of 150-year old floorboards for a new floor, you name it.  As the noise is mild, I gave up on one-third of my protection plan altogether.

I’m currently down to safety glasses and bandana.  I can feel the slight layer of dust in both the eyes and the mouth, and I suppose in my ears now, as well.  It isn’t going well.  Maybe I’ll try to apply the spitting technique to the Dr. Horrible goggles and return to the respirator next?


I’m about half done the roughly 360 square foot ceiling, but all the tricky corners are down.  Only the open area in the dining room remains.  Please don’t let the sanding last into tomorrow.  I really want to stay on schedule and try to finish up painting on Friday.

Of course, that will require having at least one functioning arm after today, and that currently looks to be in doubt at the moment.  I suppose, since I’m at the end of this entry, it means I have to go back to work.  I could take questions from the audience.  That would buy me some time.  Anybody?  Please?

dave