Dust

Having de-poussièred my house last Sunday night and spent a whole week of evenings breathing fresh air, I got stuck in with the sandpaper again today.


This morning, I shunted all of my furniture into my sitting room in preparation for a blitz. My parents are coming over in a few weeks - partly for a holiday, partly to wield paint-brushes - and even though I know they'd be happy to do it, I don't want to land them with all the preparation. So I got out my steps and my sandpaper, put on my work clothes, plugged the gaps under the bedroom doors in a (failed) attempt to keep the dust from getting out, and set to.

The lazy bugger was who sloshed white emulsion all over this flat at some point in the last twenty years deserves to be shot. I spent four hours just on the glass door and I didn't even finish there were so many slobbery drips and runs and lumps (how do you even make lumps when you're painting?). There's paint on the glass and paint on the door handles and the detail of the molding is obscured by... paint. Yeech. Oh, and he had a go at the cornice too.

It's really strange powdery, chalky paint which is pretty difficult to clean up so I'll see if I do anything this week during the evening or if I just have another blitz next weekend when I have enough time to make real headway and justify the cleaning up time. In the meantime, I'm all cosy in my sitting room. Slightly crowded, it must be said, but it'll be nice to wake up in here for a change.