ANOTHER INNOCENCE LOST

I can truly say that I've had a new experience this week. One that now ranks in my all-time top ten list of nasty things to do.

Removing fiberglass insulation from a crawl space on a hot summer day.

There's a reason why they call it a crawl space. There's nothing like doing physical work in a dimly lit baking hot, confined cubbyhole; wearing a hooded long-sleeve sweatshirt, fogged goggles on top of fogged glasses; with dust in the air so thick you can feel it working its way through the fabric of your clothes, and a respirator mask that would better be called an asphyxiation mask.

I've finished three of eight cubbyholes. That leaves five plus the attic proper to go. It would be faster except the misguided SOB that installed this stuff insisted on tamping all of the roof soffits full in addition to just tacking the batts to the underside of the rafters. That has to be fished out by reaching down as far as one can into filthy, inky blackness, and grabbing whatever can be found. Insulation, mummified dead birds, whatever...

Then there's the joy of schlepping mounds of shredded, moldy, irritating fuzz down two flights of stairs and into the dumpster - one armload at a time because anything larger won't fit through the house's hallways. If only I could have rented a debris chute, too.

All this is to explain why absolutely no knitting went on in my life yesterday, so there is nothing for me to report on the filet lace project.

Did you know that if enough fiberglass gets into one's ears, even they itch?