![]() We’d squat and lift a full sheet, carry it under where it would go, then we’d count off, “One, two, lift,” and yank the sheet up from our sides and flat onto our heads, our finger-tips on its smooth surface to keep it from buckling and cracking. He was faster with measurements and cuts and handling the screw gun, so it fell to Randy and me to do most of the grunt work. By coffee break, all the sheetrock was unloaded and Jeb had finished the strapping. ![]() ![]() The day before, we’d started nailing spruce strapping into the joists sixteen inches on center and while Jeb finished that, Randy and I were hauling sheets of plasterboard off the truck and stacking them against a wall in each of the three rooms. It was a weeknight, probably Wednesday, and all day long Jeb and Randy and I hung sheetrock in the rooms we’d built in the widow’s house overlooking the water. ![]()
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