Not Quite Trading Spaces
I learned a few important things this weekend while participating in a local Habitat for Humanity project:
1. Actually building a house in real life is nothing at all like Trading Spaces
2. Hammering works better if you use proper hammering techniques.
3. I am no good with a hammer, and should not pursue a career requiring hammering.
4. When they tell you not to get a certain substance on you or your clothing because it will not come off, they are right.

I've been fascinated with Trading Spaces. This is a great show. I love that within an hour they completely redecorate a room in creative ways, including all the labor and the ooh-ing and aaah-ing at the end. They make it look so easy, fun, and trendy. So, naturally when called upon to participate in a Habitat for Humanities project, I assumed the experience would be much like Trading Spaces. We'd show up, have some fun, do some work, and within an hour have the house ready for move-in. Right?

Wrong.

I loved the experience. I had a great time. I am not afraid of manual labor during the heat of the day. I even like to get dirty now and then. So the fact that I ended up extremely dirty at the conclusion of the event was no big deal to me. Plus we helped construct a place to live for people who are in need. Truly, a worthy cause and something we were excited about as the purpose of the day. But by the end of the day, I realized that Trading Spaces is not so much like real life. And I realized that my dream of being a construction worker will always remain just a dream.

My first task was to help the boys nail black paper-ish stuff to the outside of the garage. Simple enough. However, this is when I discovered that I am not exactly coordinated with the hammering of the nails. I received several lessons from several boys on how to hammer properly, including holding the hammer, and execution of good wrist and forearm technique. Still, I managed to not hammer effectively, although I did get in a few good ones. Hammering, while fun, is just not one of my many talents.

My next task was to foam holes. I was given a can of foamy insulation-type stuff, and told to squirt foam into any holes in the boards in the ceiling. Easy, right? Yes, until I was warned to absolutely not get it on my clothes or my skin, since the foam does not come off. I realize the man in charge was trying to warn me away from the dangers of the foam, but what he didn't realize was that by telling me not to get it all over myself, he actually invited me to proceed in thoroughly getting it all over myself.

I started out fine, moving from hole to hole where wires were threaded through the boards, sealing things up with my trusty can o' foam. Who needs the hammer?? I was good at foaming! But soon the foam began escaping the can faster than I could cram it in the holes. And before I knew it, the foam had oozed profusely, running amok outside of the can and onto my hands, clothes, shoes, and yes, even running down my leg. I was foamed.

But, in case there was any doubt to the truth and severity of the message about not getting foam on myself, I emphatically proved that the man in charge spoke the truth. The foam, in fact, did not come off. Since it is a sealant designed to fill holes, harden, and prevent air from flowing, this is precisely what it did to my skin and clothes. Everything was sealed up quite nicely. Throughout the rest of the day I attempt to de-foam myself. I was able to remove the big foam chunks, but the residue left behind by the chunks o' foam seemed to be there to stay. It is impervious to soap. I've been methodically chiseling away at it pieces at a time. But I'm still wearing much of it today.

After vacating the foam job, which I did actually complete despite the attack of the foam, I moved on to the blue box job. This task was the trickiest of all, albeit less dangerous than foam. It required a team effort. We had to locate and measure the positions of various blue electrical boxes used for outlets, cable connections, and phone jacks throughout the house. Once the location of a box was determined, we then needed to hammer the box to the studs. This required measuring, remembering, marking things, and being accurate. This job required brains. And once again, hammering.

I started out as a measurer for this task. But having the short term memory of a fruit fly, by the time I'd locate a box and figure out the measurements, I'd forget where it was supposed to go when I got back to the right spot. We re-evaluated my position on the blue box team, and decided to switch things up a bit. I became a hammer-er. But having already proven that this is not my strong point, I was soon relieved of my hammering duties once again. I found my niche as the holder of the box being hammered, while it was hammered by someone proficient in hammering. This was a daunting task, as I had to make sure the box lined up to the specified measurements, then strategically hold the box against the wood in a fashion that would ensure I did not get a finger smashed by the hammer-er while I held the box. It was tricky, but we managed to streamline the sequence, and soon finished the blue box task, to perfection.

It was an adventuresome day, for a good cause. Hopefully my desire to help and my efforts to try my hand at construction work were an asset towards completing the houses, so the families could soon move in and begin their lives as homeowners. At the least, my unintentional comic relief kept things fun and enjoyable for the group. And, no one got hurt, despite my accidental shenanigans.

But how come they never get foam or paint on themselves on Trading Spaces? They always manage to stay so clean and glamorous.

If anyone needs me, I'll be here de-foaming.

C.T.