BATTLE OF THE DUST #2

The drill survived and he brought his friend, the pain (oops....paint).

Paint and drill was a perfect partner in crime.

While Mr Drill was spewing out dust, Miss Paint (yes, they were romantically link) were oozing out her love potion all over the floor. So much for mating of the reno-emo kind.

They were putting on such a good act that it brought tears to my eyes. Not that I am touched by their performance, I am allergic to dust and the irritating odors, fumes, vapors and off-gassing paint. Funny how some people are hook on ammonia sniffing.

Mind you, their job is not done yet. They will be back with a vengeance for the next one month or so because they can sense my fear.

Fear, yes I am.

I fear the cleaning up everytime they are done with their job for the day.

I have never in my entire adult life sweep, vacuum, mop the floor at such uncountable times before .  You name it, mothers of all cleaning and that is what I have been doing for the past one and a half month.

Not to mentioned transporting all the books from the bookshelves from downstairs to upstairs. I think my arm has gotten longer and my feet has gone shorter as a result of this hard labor.


 Hard labor or not, I have to fight this battle to the very end armed with broom and vacuum.

 Meanwhile, I am on the lookout for a surgeon who can restore my arm and feet to its default state.