Insulation Installation
Mar/25/08 08:21 AM
We have begun the installation of our insulation, and it has gone surprisingly quick. Kristin has shown a surprising aptitude for this aspect of the project, so much so that it seems I’m the one asking, “Ok, what do we do next?”
I hung the foam baker board in the upstairs attic areas while Kristin hung most of the batts. We started downstairs and worked our way up. We were told that you are supposed to overlap the edges of the batts, but in an old house like ours, we were lucky to get one to overlap. I think at this point we are going to have to tape them or something.
Kristin hung the batts and I followed behind stapling them with the hammer stapler. While I was hanging the foam board in the attic Kristin got ahead of me, so I thought Sunday morning I would get up at 6:30 and go to the house and get caught up on the stapling while Kristin slept in. (For those of you who don’t know, our other house is just 4 doors down.) Anyway, I was at the house and I was rolling, I mean I was a stapling machine, Until...
I stapled my left middle finger to the wall. First of all, it’s a lot like smashing your finger with a hammer, but add on top of that two small puncture wounds. What you get is something very ^*%#ing painful! It would be all fine and dandy if my instinct was to leave my finger in place and remove the staple from my finger and the wall, but that was not the case. Nope, ripping my finger away as quickly as possible ruled out, thus adding to the injury. I quickly decided the only thing that would ease the pain was sympathy from my wife, so I headed out the door. A trail of tools and protective gear followed me, first I ditched the stapler that had turned on me like a pet snake. Then it was the one glove on the hand that got stapled, then the dust mask, and as I got to the door, for some strange reason I thought that I should leave the other glove because I knew it was best not to split them up. So I dropped the other glove. I would reckon that a good detective could have followed the trail from the door and surmised that I had indeed done something stupid.
I rambled into the house being sure to make enough noise to wake up my wife. It was great, I got hot tea and breakfast made for me. Some morbid part of me thought “Gee, I should smash my finger more often.”