I hate drywall

I had this great idea of trying to bless my dad by tearing out his hundred year old lathe and plaster ceiling and replace it with a nice drywall ceiling. I had the idea that I could do that in 2 days. I am not very bright.

I hate drywall. I hate the dust, the weight, the way it dries my hands out, and breathing the @#*^&! stuff. What was I thinking? When I was a young buck, I could carry 2 sheets of 5/8 drywall 12 ft long by myself (Please, PLEASE be impressed). Tonight I loaded up 2 sheets of 1/2 inch drywall that were only 8 ft long and I thought I was going to die. Getting old is hell. Having to admit to myself and the world that I ain't what I used to be is humbling to say the least.

I don't know what the point of all this is except to say this; I hope I can live the second half of my life smarter than I did the first half. I hope I don't ever have to sling drywall again, that I never have to brag about how much drywall I can sling to feel valuable and worthwhile, or to impress people. I want to do a whole lot more blessing of others and a whole lot less ceilings. And I want to make a difference in people's lives more than I want to make money, be popular, or get my hair back (the hair is a sore topic).

May my eternal Papa show even more mercy to a middle aged, ex idiot, and hopefully ex-drywall slinger in the years to come.