I didn't tell you the nastiest part of the kitchen tear out from earlier this week. Remember the house where I was swinging from the cabinets? Well, those cabinets were screwed to a 2x4 that was nailed to the ceiling, running the length of the front of the cabinets. The 2x4 was hidden behind a decorative piece of wood laminate and some trim. There were also some short pieces of wood running perpendicular to the cabinets about every 18 inches or so to support the 2x4. I hope you can picture that - kind of like a ladder in the ceiling.

Anyway, once the cabinets were down we could see up into the eaves of the house. There was only a non-storage attic space above the kitchen. I'm sure that the original insulation there was lovely. But now it wasn't. At some point in the house's history, rodents of some kind had nested all in that insulation. We decided it must be squirrels, which I'm hoping is true. There were some leaves and twigs mixed in with the smelly, gray, now loose insulation. Because it had been damp and then dry, it didn't all fall down when the cabinets were removed.

What wasn't falling out had to be pulled out. Since I was already up on the counter and step ladder working on the 2x4, it kind of fell to me to pull it down. There was another guy on the job that day, Adam, a 15 year old on his spring break earning some extra cash. He had been doing the same thing as I had been, so we pulled that nasty nesting out together. He held open the big trash bag and I, with my hands gloved, did my best to aim the fetid feculent flotsam into the bag. Poor Adam. Even though I had my gloved hands in it all, at least my head was above it.

When I got home, I did not hug my children. I undressed in the laundry room and ran a load on hot. It was very nasty.

Here's the thought that kept nauseating me. The kitchen is usually the hub of family activity. It is where families not only prepare their meals, but share their lives with each other and their guests. I'm sure this family never realized how close to all this shit they were. It's probably good that they weren't there to see it. It would make you want to tear down more of the house.

It then made me think of how I react to tragic stories in the news. I used to read about these personal traumas and look for the part of the story that would give me hope that it couldn't happen to me. It used to be easier in my life to find those differences. I think it might have been only the illusion of safety and cleanliness before. Is it better to know about the shit on the fringes of your life or not?