My bare feet are currently covered dust. Ceiling dust, mind you. Let's be very specific. It is dust from the ceiling as opposed to common floor dust. This fact alone is alarming because it's very difficult to get ceiling on your feet.
Then again, so it is with home repair. The odd often becomes quite unsurprising, if not altogether lackluster and common. Wires reaching out from gaping holes in the wall. Water pooling about in the living room. The fridge is also screaming at me in a shrill tone. Something to do with the wiring in the wall that my contractor was working on set another something off. Now it sounds like a warning alarm, as if the condiments and produce are preparing to storm the kitchen and I should bastion myself in the bedroom before their revolution begins. (Can you hear the pea shoots sing?)
We're finally getting around to a bit of home repair - some necessary electrical work in the walls and a few minor upgrades while we're crawling about the attic. There's reggae music and conversations in Oaxacan dialect serenading me from above and it's all rather surreal if not also somewhat entertaining. If you've never heard Bob Marley's, "Jamming," in Spanish while people saw apart your home it's quite the auditory mindfuck.