One More Time . . .

After our disastrous attempt to blow insulation into our attic a few weeks ago, we gave it another try on Saturday.

We amassed the most adorable crew you could ever hope for.

The Dowd and MB both came up to help.

We got in touch with our inner Bob Villa, got our lights and tools and masks and eyewear out again, and got to it.

Remember this travesty?

Now it looks like this.

And remember this scary nonsense?

All gone.

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The Dowd nailed the floor back on . . .

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. . . while MB and I cut pieces of Manville R-38 insulation bats . . .

. . . and shoved them into the sides, where we'd made dams last time.

Then we started laying out the Manville. Every time The Dowd said, "I need another bat of Maaaan-ville" and every time MB and I cracked up.

We were quite a team, laying down that stuff. And even though there are no photos of me, I was up there working, too.

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Jennie stopped by, with a jar of vegenaise for Billy, and popped her head up the hatch, but she was too scared of catching asbestositis asbestosis to stick around.

Mistah Schleckah even got into the act.

The Dowd had to belly-crawl into a 4' x 6' space, where he found a squirrel skull.

The bats are 2' across, and our attic is 10' across, so it was a beautiful, tidy, smooth process.

And then, a mere 2-½ hours, and a whole lot of head bumps and sore knees later, our whole attic looked like a big fluffy cloud . . .

. . . keeping that warm air right in.

We got showered up and congratulated ourselves continually on using all the Manville we bought, and having none left over. What are the odds of that?

And then Mistah and I took the world's best Manville insulators out for a night on the town.

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We're warm right down to our tootsie-toes around here. Thanks guys!