It's not about the house.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Holy Crap

I actually did it: I sanded the g-d door. Yesterday afternoon. I didn’t even know I was going to, but before I knew it, it was done. I cleaned up the mess and everything.

And now that I have, now that it’s over, let’s examine the particulars of spin-sanding – shall we? First off, you have to have the proper pads. Second, in a perfect world you’re wearing goggles so’s you don’t get door-bits in your eyes. Third – well, I don’t know what third base is because I’m a good girl.

I had four different kinds of pads, but none were exactly right: too big, too small, the holes don’t line up, not sticky. I chose the one that seemed most likely to stick to the spinner (too big). I couldn't find anything on the package to tell me what grade it was, but when I peeled the backing off, it said it was 150 – so way not anywhere close to the 60 Johnny gave me. But oh well.

I stuck on the pad and turned on the machine (goggles? I don’t need no stinking goggles!), put it to the door and—

Did someone say "spin-spun hypnotic vortices"?

…and then the pad went flying – ptew! – straight down the hall.

You know what? I was right. I’m just not cut out for this spin-sanding thing.

So, even though I wasted three days sitting around convincing myself I wouldn’t have to, I picked up the non-power #60 after all.

Scratch-scratch. Sand-sand. Rub-rub…

Yeah, no. This ain’t what’s gonna happen.

I tested out the other kinds of pads, but the 150s really were the only ones that stuck, so I just resolved to pushed harder and never let it come up off the door while it was spinning. I held on to the bucking thing for dear life – especially up around the top bits where the windows are – because I was convinced I’d lose control and send the damn thing through the glass.

The glass survived, but being so close to it reminded me that, even if I was the Spin-Sand Mistress of the Universe, I was still going to have to hand-do the edges by the windows and all the decorative panel corner crap.

God do I hate sanding!

And so on and so forth until I’m on my hands and knees with the vacuum cleaner, sucking up all the mess I made. Once I’ve got the dust off it, the lower right panel doesn’t look exactly sanded after all, so I hit it with the #60 and now it looks like crap, but who cares? It's getting painted!

And that’s it. I’m done. I considered carrying the door back to the kitchen, but screw it. I’ll move it if the Kid shows up, but otherwise I’m painting it right there.

After all, how many times should I have to haul the thing around?

PS Kid called. He’ll be here at 9:00.

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