Dust in the nostrils, and tar on my heals

there’s a certain exhilarating feeling that occurs when you first fire up a sander revealing a pure wood-grain underneath centuries of buildup. That initial rush soon dissipates as you begin smelling your own recycled breath in the respirator, soon thereafter your eyes begin to burn from the micro dust absorbing every last trickle of moisture you can produce. Its all tolerable on some level until you run into floor problems, in this case, a giant tar pit. You cant sand it, you can’t scrape it, but it turns out that in total frustration you can pour sawdust and cement powder on it, and wall-ah it comes right up. Bet you didn’t know that Bob Villa.



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