Dante was wrong...there are 10 circles of hell...he missed drywalling...

Seriously, I'm not sure what sin you have to commit to get to the tenth ring of hell, but I can tell you that once there your eternal damnation will be in the form of applying infinite coats of drywall mud and then an equal number of times will you be condemned to sand it. And like Sisyphus pushing that boulder, everytime you think you're done you'll notice a ridge, or a dip,a ripple, or something else that makes you put another coat of mud on knowing that the next day you'll be entering a fresh, white, powdery hell of your own making.

Let me describe my recent world. You balance on a step ladder, in a small room with 4 light bulbs, the door shut and no other ventilation. You stare at hard, drywall compound on the wall and wonder how you managed to cock it up that badly. It looked okay last night. Then you start sanding. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Time has no meaning. It's like a training session with Mr. Miyagi gone horribly wrong. Ralph Macchio isn't there, so at least that's something I suppose. Soon your shoulders start to hurt like you've been throwing baseballs all day long. The air is thick with a fine, white dust. To protect your lungs you're wearing a mask but it doesn't let enough air in so you constantly feel like you're going to suffocate. Work too hard and your heart races, crying out for more air. I felt like Homer Simpson trying to do...well...to do anything really. But the best part, the best, is the sweat mixing with the powder on your skin and hair. There is nothing like getting little drywall compound balls hardening in the corner of your eyes. Second to that is sporting the new fashion look - plaster of Paris hair. Even with a bandanna on, it still gets in. And my beard? Oh you don't want to know what that does. It's like the hair is wet and frozen, except it's hot and sticky.

So this has been my world for the last while. And you wonder why I haven't written? BUT it's getting better. Just a final coat and a light sanding (please let it be a light sanding) and I'm ready for paint. There are more things beyond that, but I don't have the heart to plan that far ahead, not while I've got my while hell waiting for me...

PS - if you think this is laid on thick, imagine the pain of my parents when I was a teenager :)