Since sometime before Christmas, we've had some black mold growing in our living along the line of the wall and ceiling.
|The mold. Adam popped a hole in the wall to find out what size thickness of drywall he needed.
Picky? Me ... picky? I'm not that kind of picky. I live with three dogs in a house with paint-splattered, scarred floors and walls with wallpaper half-ripped off of them. I'd be happy to have the black mold cut out. Anything after that is just gravy.
So we draped up the living room:
When stressed, Beau tends to daintily remove dirty kleenex from my bedroom waste paper basket, chew them gently, and leave them on the floor. He was very stressed. It was a three-kleenex kind of day.