A neighbor gave me a roll of 16″ insulation, so rather than let it lay around until it was officially time to put up insulation I decided to go ahead and stick it between the rafters.
Fiberglass insulation never used to bother me. A little itching, a little wheezing, no problem. Zelda would have had a coronary had she watched me work in the old days. But now I can’t so much as unroll it without feeling like this is the last big asthma attack and I’z comin’, ‘Lizbeth.
Seriously. A paper mask doesn’t do a thing for me. It was a problem, since the time was coming.
I gave it some thought, and then I brought down the odd-shaped canvas bag that’s hung in an unobtrusive corner of the loft for years…
Wow, yeah. Needs dusting. Okay, so does everything else.
This should do it…
This is a relic of my old angry, paranoid “prepper” days. Mostly what I prepped for was dying well, with lots of company in a pile of hot brass. These days I concentrate more on living well, but in either scenario you never know when a good gas mask will come in handy.
For the record this works really well for keeping fiberglass fibers out of your airway. I’d really have hated to have to fight in it for hours till they just got bored and burned me out like a little kid in Waco, though. Gets sweaty.
I had a picture of me in the mask, shirt buttoned to the throat, nitrile gloves taped to my sleeves, just for Zelda. I really did. But it didn’t come out and I’m not putting that get-up back on till next week. Maybe then.
Okay, that’s the “Prepared” moment. The really embarrassingly unprepared moment happened earlier this morning and I have no pictures. You’ll just have to take my word that I’m really this much of an idiot.
LB and I got off to a late start this morning; I stayed in bed when I should have gotten up, lounged around the ‘pooter when I should have gotten dressed and off to chores. Finally around ten he got a short walky and a Jeep ride. We went to Landlady’s to tend the chickens there, just like we do every morning. Sometimes we walk and sometimes we drive, but we always do it. And I had gotten complacent.
It has happened before. It happens every so often, because most times you’ll get away with it. I was rushed, because I was running late. So I left my gun on the kitchen counter. Right next to my camera. Right over the spot on the floor where I left my right boot. Yes, I arrived sandaled and unarmed and listening to a football game on the radio. So I actually had the driver’s door open and practically stepped right in front of the big brown rattlesnake that had noticed me a long time before and was extremely unpleased at the intrusion.
It was such a perfect set-up. This rattler looked like it was posing for the cover of a Louis L’amour novel. Coiled, rattling for all it was worth, head drawn back to strike. It’ll be eleven years in November I’ve lived here and I’ve never seen such a classic coil, and I didn’t have my camera. Or my gun. Or my frickin’ boot for that matter. Why hadn’t I just left my pants at home, and called the day complete?
I don’t kill every rattler I see, you know. Most are out where they can do no harm and most are completely unaggressive, not even all that hostile. But sometimes they’re in your yard and a few are excitable, and those you’d better be ready to deal with. In fact I haven’t killed a rattler since May – also in Landlady’s yard. I suppose I could have simply backed up and driven over this one, and later I wished I had. But to tell the truth I really wanted that picture for the blog. It was perfect.
So like an idiot I drove home to get my camera. And my gun, since I had no intention of getting close enough to off this one with a shovel. And my boot, yeah, that would be good.
Yes of course it was gone when I returned. But where had it gone? If it went south into the brush, well and good. That’s where it belonged. But if it went north, it was in or around the chickenhouse or the powershed. I truly wished I’d just driven over the damned thing and shoveled up the mess.
Thanks for that nice flashlight, guys. You’d have laughed to watch me work my way through all the shadowy places in the chickenhouse, flashlight and pistol in hand, looking for that stupid snake.
Never did find it. Hope it lives long and prospers – far away from me.
My standing rule is that I don’t leave my front porch unless I’m ready to do battle with whomever or whatever. Normally I have a plan to kill everyone and everything I meet. But months can go by without that doing me any good, and after a while it starts to feel a little silly and bothersome. And then I get caught with the wildlife hostile and my belt empty. Live in the boonies long enough and it’ll happen – you just won’t know when.
Well, then. It wasn’t the first time, it won’t be the last. But I’ve been chastened: the next time will be quite a while down the road.
Re: Insulation. You’re lucky you had your old paranoid gas mask and smart that you thought to use it. Couple of years ago when I got around to rehabilitating the old clawfoot tub that came with this house, it was full of insulation (both loose fiberglass and the blown-in type, which was just cellulose). I had to pull that insulation out, bag it up, and dispose of it. Didn’t know whether I was going to hack up my lungs or my stomach contents first.
I did manage more recently to put up a wall of fresh, new insulation without dying. But a childhood illness weakened my bronchial tubes a lot more than I realized, and the damage is showing up now.
Re: Rattlesnakes and preparedness, you know what you just described would have made a really funny YouTube video.
It’s a good thing you had the mask and gloves, insulation can be a very nasty thing to deal with. As for the snake, you are one lucky hombre. Remember the 7 P principal… Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance.
Lawsy Joel, in the days when you were breathing fiberglass I’d have walked you off the job and to a hospital for lung treatment for you and coronary treatment for me. You are in shockingly good shape for someone who accepted so many potentially damaging or fatal life events. But you are older… and the damage is cumulative…so cherish that mask and all of your other PPE – like a disposable full coverall so you don’t get it in your clothes. And you don’t need fiberglass floating around in the Lair for the rest of your life because it’s too hard to sleep with that mask on. I wish you were using encapsulated fiberglass (I have used it) -is that a possibility? – instead of open batts. Waiting to see the photos. Haven’t seen any photos of you outfitted correctly for tending batteries…ahem.
You have any extra cans for that thing?
No, as I said the mask is a relic. But having been reminded how far past its exp date my one still-sealed canister was I ordered a new one. I don’t really expect to ever use it for its original purpose but I’d look awfully stupid if I were wrong.
I would bet an “expired” can would work just fine for insulation “dust”. A single layer of good-condition bandanna tied over the can might not hurt, of course.
It would be nice to have an “active” can around for unforeseen contingencies, I agree.
Yeah, this one certainly works for the fiberglass fibers. I wouldn’t expect chemical treatment to do much good unless the insulation has been exposed to nerve gas or something…
My mother used to tell the story of the time my dad spent the afternoon with his drinking buddy Otha and his erstwhile friend, Jim Beam, and as night fell, decided to crawl into a cave behind the house armed with a flashlight, a shovel, and two .410 shells to wipe out the den of rattlesnakes that was a potential threat to his long-suffering wife and young ”uns.
Unfortunately he passed out a short ways into the cave and she and his human drinking buddy, Otha, had to crawl into the cave and drag him out.
I never have been brave/stupid enough to ask him how you load a shovel.
My grandmother preferred her garden hoe for snake eradication.