Remodeling via the 90's

I finished coat #3 of mud on the ceiling today, thinking very uncharitable thoughts about whichever previous owner did such shoddy work. It’s taken almost a full box of mud to even out the horror of mismatched drywall seams and insane texture. A full box, for less than 10 square feet of ceiling. But, I like working with my hands. It’s satisfying, making ugly things disappear.

While working, I listened to old mix CD’s on an old stereo, both recently resurrected from my now-empty storage unit. Three notes in, and I was 17 again-- no, 15-- no, 22. I forgot to pay attention to the work I was doing, forgot everything but how to breathe through my nose while treading memories.

I wandered through the edges of highschool today, with a smattering of college thrown in. I listened to a midnight roadtrip, heard boxes packed for a cross-country move, and sang of climbing out my window to smoke clove cigarettes on the roof.

I’m exhausted. Mudding isn’t hard work, but the time travel wrung me right out.


  1. Hi:
    Stopping by on the NaBloWriMo tour! I like this post; you write well. :)

  2. I loved this! Fall is certainly one of those transitional times when it's easy to fall through the thin places of time, isn't it? All it takes is a song...

  3. Time traveling makes the mundane so much more doable :) Enjoyed this post.