Our story so far: The subcontractors for our drywall job at the 126-year-old Methodist church found it distasteful, so the A Team, the men who had so skillfully finished our sanctuary ceiling, got handed the ball.
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The A Team began (on Day Three) in the master bath so our tiler, You-Can-Call-Me-Al, could put down his saw and pick up his spatula again and get back to tiling.
The drywall concealed all our sins: Crooked pipes, ugly studs, awkwardly stapled insulation plus dirt and sawdust. White sheets occasionally interrupted with “5/8” CP LITE-WEIGHT FIRE-RATED” print covered everything. Even before mudding the seams, the new drywall made actual rooms out our wooden studs. People warned us our rooms would feel smaller, but I didn’t feel that way at all. Our rooms finally felt like rooms.
In completing the bathroom, the new Sheetrock sealed up our short-cut. The linen closet—an awkward eighteen-inch-square chunk of space between the mudroom, the walk-in-closet and the bathrooms—lost its status as a doorway and became what it was designed for: A closet.
After five days of hanging drywall in all the rooms on the main floor and second story, the A Team began taping the seams and mudding them, which finished all the edges nicely.
Our wall work was nothing on the scale of God’s and it was taking a lot longer than six days, but in the words of Genesis, we saw everything that we had made, and behold, it was very good.
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Today’s headline comes from “Upright Come,” a song by Patti Smith.
Tomorrow: VIP visitors. Read about them here.