Holly and I worked for two hours this morning and it seemed like half a day. I couldn't begin to do that for eight hours. Or a week or a month. And so those who have the strength and patience to do that down-on-the-floor and up and down and dirty and funny-smelling and unsanitary... you are noble and strong. And maybe a little crazy.
Not that we were installing carpet. We stripped half a bedroom, carpet out in two strips (rolled, bagged, taped and in the trash) and the padding (almost like new in the corners) and staples and tack strips, up and out. I was deeply grateful for the immediate presence of a Dyson vacuum. We vaccuumed the teeny particulate yuck that gets under the padding as we went, like "rinse and spit" at the dentist, so we were never sitting in it or touching it.
We only planned to do half at a time from the beginning, because it's been so hot here. And because Holly's never done it, and because I'm old. (I'm lining up all possible justifications for working only two hours and then stopping to shower and blog about it.)
I warned Holly about the danger of the razor-blade knife. Then I stabbed the inside of my forearm, just a little, to make the point. Okay, it was a total embarrassing accident and it hurt, and it bled, but I'm a big (BIG) wimp, and once it was washed, a little spot bandaid is all it needed. I didn't even need painkillers. :-)
We stored our tools together for tomorrow, I took a shower, and Holly went back to bed. Her bed had been covered with sheets on the "not yet" side, and we slid it over to the newly-bare wood. Next week she's getting a new twin bed. The house is all quiet again.