White Dust

I believe I mentioned in one of my observations that my wife likes to paint.  OK, OK, I mentioned it two days ago.  But, like an episode of Seinfeld,  I've got intertwined themes going here - I also mentioned painting was part of decorating creep.  As the dreaded creep is still underway, we have just lived through the painting part.


This time, much to the chagrin of my wallet, my wife actually hired real painters.  And repainting the new kitchen wasn't sufficient - let's repaint the hall and the stairway and the master bath, too.  Well, let me tell you, neither one of us realized what we were in for.  They taped plastic up to every opening in the house, draped plastic over coats INSIDE downstairs closets, put paper down on the floors, took an ENTIRE DAY just to apply spackle, and then the dreaded sanding bit commenced. 


White dust everywhere (my forced hot air heating system thoughtfully obliging by evenly distributing said white dust throughout the house).  A total of 4 days of going out for meals (plastic covering every kitchen surface and all), and trying to understand questions asked of us in broken spanish-accented english.


But, we're done and everything is beautiful - or one would think.  You didn't forget the decorating creep element in all this, did you?  Well, the master bedroom doesn't look so good anymore, and we were intending to redo the guest bedroom weren't we? 


All I can picture is white dust.  Does anyone have the number for the Merry Maids?