“You should know that any ‘home repair’ project takes twice as long as you expect it to,” admonished the Red Hair Capricorn, “here, let me help.”
Most of the bedroom was in front of the trailer, some I carried around the backside, a little was in the kitchen but there was a clear path to the coffee. I made made dash for record time at Home Despot, and gathered up the few remaining supplies I thought I needed, and then I tackled the bedroom. By sundown, I was ready to start assembling the bed again. So much for home repair, I fear I will just let all of this stuff sit for a while. I am so sore this morning, and that does nothing but strengthen my conviction that I am not cut out of a cloth which should work in a construction trade. At all. And it was all about an asbestos scare. I figure this is about a 1972 model trailer, and with the little “texture” on the ceiling, I could 1] sell it “as is” (but that would mean moving), 2] get an expert in to strip it, 3] slap a coat of paint over what might — or might not be — a problem. And it would make this place look a lot better. The red head Cappy was like an angel, helping with carrying some of the stuff in the gathering dark and also fetching food. Next time, I think she’ll follow my suggestion, a vegetarian Thundercloud sub with a couple of strips of bacon, for that added flavor. It was good.
