What it looks like when I do it:
What it looks like when Johnny does it (same corners):
See, when we first bought this house I swore I would never attempt this kind of work -- because, as I believe I've mentioned, he's been doing it for thirty years and is really really good at it. I knew I could never live up or work as fast, so I figured it wasn't worth the fights.
Plus that meant I wouldn't have to, you know, do it.
But I got possessed. By Goody and Prudence and the Puritan Manifesto, and the notion that this was just a closet, so who cares? Johnny approved that concept before I began. Which, ahem, was by definition before he saw what havoc I was capable of wreaking.
Apparently there's a line between "just a closet" and "still part of the house we own and have to live in" -- and apparently I crossed it.
Twenty minutes into the job, shirtless and drenched in sweat (oh, did I mention it was 94 degrees yesterday?) Johnny came marching into the bedroom (where I was folding laundry, if you can believe that -- and believe me, I want credit for it) to announce:
"Don't ever try to tape anything again.
"Ever."
Yes, dear. If you insist.
1 comment:
What I wouldn't give to live with someone who knew how to really do drywall finishing... as opposed to living with someone who only THINKS that she knows how to do drywall finishing... oy.
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