The monster

This is an orbital sander. We rented it to sand the upstairs floors. Rundy is the only one operating it. When he is sanding it sounds like . . . how shall I put this? Imagine you are living under an overpass of the nearest interstate highway. Further imagine that a steady stream of heavy equipment is driving overhead. The noise is deafening. Glasses in the cabinet tinkle against each other. Caleb even wondered if the machine was going to bust through the ceiling. But the smell is different than that of diesel traffic. At times there is the pleasant smell of burning wood, generated by the heat of the sander’s friction. At other times there is a more chemical smell, probably depending on how much grime/plaster/paint is on that spot on the floor. Mercifully, each room is done quickly. The machine is efficient, and the wood is soft, probably pine. The sanding pads aren’t attached to the machine; they are merely held in place by the weight of the beast, which is considerable. This means that we won’t be able to sand the stair treads as we had originally planned, because the sander pad is larger than the stair tread, and so would drop away if you tried to sand that smaller area. I’m not sure if there is a plan B for the stair way.