The Dust

1.       Even bigger hole in wall – check

2.       Demolition of fitted wardrobe – check...

3.       ...leading to even bigger hole in wall

4.       Gas fire disconnected – check

5.       First skip booked for next week – check

6.       Demolition Squad booked for next week – check

7.       Mummy prepared for dust – nope.

I do not like the dust part.  I know it’s a means to an end but I don’t like the dust part.  I had to wipe the mouse on my knee before I started typing, and the keyboard feels weird as it is covered in an ever-so-fine film of dust.

The fact that our computer is within a metre of the wall that was being demolished didn’t faze Project Manager, didn’t even faze him enough to cover the computer – argh!  I, rather belatedly, threw my dressing gown over it once I realised he was actually removing plaster from the walls.

The plaster on the wall is a ‘good solid layer’ as my father-in-law said.  It’s about two inches thick, and lime-based.  For anyone that doesn’t know what the implications of ‘lime-based’ are it means a dry dusty smell permeating your nostrils, a strange almost sticky dust coating on skin, hair, furniture and – the worst part – a dry sore throat making you parched and thirsty as the lime sucks every last drop of moisture from your mucus membrane.

OK. I think I’m being melodramatic now but you get the picture.  I don’t like the dust part.

Now where’s the brush attachment for the vacuum cleaner...