Second Hand Dust

The dust clouds behind the plastic sheeting.

The dust, not content to invade every nook and cranny of the Tall House, has branched out to the neighbour's. And they are hopping mad. I must say I can't blame them. It's bad enough for us, but we created it. Nobody wants to have to deal with our second hand dust. Like second hand smoke, second hand dust is extremely irritating mostly because the person on whom it is inflicted has absolutely no say in the matter.

Unfortunately, in all the excitement of last week, we forgot one very crucial element: we didn't warn Daniel and Donald that the bricks needed to be sawed in order to make way for the doors. And of course the weather was unseasonably warm for November, and of course their windows were wide open, and of course that red brick dust went flying through, and of course the damn stuff stains. So most of their weekend, apparently, was spent cleaning up after us.

What pains me the most is that Daniel has been a brick, no pun intended, throughout the whole process, patiently taking all our banging and debris in stride. And of course we adore Donald, he of the Halloween cakes, jams and marmalade. Neither deserve to have their home invaded by the red plague.

So Manu has offered, at least, to help clean up Daniel's terrace and I will try and soften them up with liquor. Not the hard stuff, just a bottle of wine. But I think I'd better make it a good one.

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Dust

Before embarking on this whole adventure, we had only a casual relationship with dust. Although far from being neat freaks, we are lucky enough to have help in the cleaning department. So up until a few months ago dust was only something that accumulated briefly at the end of the week before Manon, our cleaning fairy would come and magically make it all disappear. But now despite Manon's infinite talent, dust is everywhere.  It sneaks in between the floorboards and through the cracks around the door jam, it even comes in uninvited through the windows...

We are in fact now so familiar with the stuff that we have actually learned that there are indeed different kinds of dust. There is the everyday-living-in-the-city variety, thin and fluffy. There is the fine white dust that comes from plaster and lath. And then there is the evil black dust, the Darth Vader of airborne matter, that is forming its own mind meld on the residents of the Tall House and causing us all to freak out, just a little. The black stuff is insidious yet seemingly unstoppable. And despite a thorough cleaning of the floors late last night, still caused our two little angels' feet to turn black by breakfast.

Needless to say we can't wait for the black plague to have passed, and are fervently hoping that once The Beam is installed that we will have seen the last of it. 

Suddenly plaster dust is looking really, really good.

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Aromatherapy 2

There won't be much growing in the backyard of The Tall House, save for the mounds of debris, for the next few years. But just a few minutes walk away from The Small Street, at The Market, amongst the displays of over priced vegetables and hot-house grown plants, a rather shy, very academic looking gentleman tends the most magical of stalls.  Appearing for our enjoyment only on weekends, his simple cafeteria style table is always filled with the most beautiful, seasonal blooms with nothing more than a handwritten piece of paper scotch-taped to the side of buckets to indicate the price. Right now, $4 can buy you a beautiful bouquet of lilly-of-the-valley,  $7 a large bunch of peonies or if you really want to splash out $25 will buy you the whole bucket. So while we ply away at the first floor, the upper stories can rejoice in the wondrous smells of those freshly cut flowers, making the ever permeating plaster dust just a little easier to take.

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