In Which I Feel Like a Superhero for Braving a Little Mouse Poop

So remember when I said that my mom managed to get the insulation in half of the ceiling of the crawlspace beneath my dining room? You did all realize that meant that she'd left half of it for me to do, right?

A little background that I'm sure I've already mentioned, but it's easier to re-type then find a link. Originally there was a greenhouse attached to the cabin's kitchen. Due to harsh winters and complete neglect it sort of fell apart and a prior renter sort of turned it into a dining room on the cheap. I mean really cheap. The greenhouse had been dug into the ground a little bit, so to have the dining room floor match the kitchen floor, the renter left a fairly sizeable (though not sizeable enough to stand up in) storage space beneath the dining room. A storage space that is accessed by a door sawed in half. A storage space containing ZERO insulation. So, in our continuing effort to make this house more comfortable, we decided that a priority would be putting some insulation between the floor joists of the dining room. Which required spending time in the sort of storage space. Which is full of mouse poop and dust and spiders and ancient cobwebs and holy hell is it unpleasant down there. But I did it. Yesterday I donned full protective gear (including mask) and spent two hours squatting on mouse poop covered dirt floors and stapling insulation above my head.

Aren't you impressed?

I mean, I know there are worse tasks. In fact, I seem too remember my dad, about this time last year, spending a week emptying a septic tank with a shovel and a bucket in the 90 degree heat of Belize. So yes, all ickiness is relative. But this is the ickiest thing I've done in quite a while.