Do You Want To Come Sniff Paint Fumes With Me?

Because that’s exactly what I’ll be doing today.  Not necessarily on purpose, but as a by product of painting our newly dry walled basement bathroom.  It’s not that it’s absolutely necessary, I mean the previous owner’s choice in wallpaper border half covered by dry wall compound is attractive [not], but I think a potential buyer might be more inclined to the less dramatic.

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That’s where the paint fumes come in.  Unless I can find my old gas mask.

Which I’ll be looking for.

OK, it’s really an old paint mask but I like to call it a gas mask because it looks like I’m going in to detonate a bomb or something.  Which means it should really be called an old bomb mask.

I don’t anticipate any bombs, but I do anticipate lots of white paint on the walls in a bathroom with no windows and lots of paint fumes.

And did I mention we looked at a house for sale yesterday that must be inhabited by smokers who attempted to cover up the smoke with air freshener, which, when combined inside closed doors creates a toxic kind of killer non-air that definitely requires a gas mask?  Or a bomb mask.  Or a paint mask.  Except we had no warning.  The listing agent did not put on the showing remarks:  please tell your clients to wear gas masks upon entry.

They should be required to do that.  Warn people to bring gas masks.  Or a hazmat team.

I almost died.

Literally.

And today, I’m going to subject myself to a similar situation again.  But this time I’ll come armed.

I’ll let you know how today’s fumes turn out.

–  The Goat Cheese Lady

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About The Goat Cheese Lady

I am Lindsey. At first I was a city girl. Then I was an urban farmgirl, attempting to balance city and farm life. Now, after moving to the country, I have embarked on life as a rural farmgirl, complete with my husband, the Animal Whisperer, man of exceptional knowledge and patience, two boys who are louder than my sister and I ever were, a herd of milking goats, and a flock of egg-laying chickens. Coyotes, mice, country dogs and prairie dogs are frequent visitors. Just 45 minutes north is Colorado Springs, the setting for our first six years in the goat world. Our family. Our city friends. Our introduction to cheesemaking. But we...and our growing farm and soon-to-be creamery...have set up shop down off of Highway 115 in Penrose, Colorado.
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