For the past few days, Tyler and I have been applying the first coat of plaster inside the house. Each swipe of the trowel is hurried along by a growing sense of urgency. Winter is fast approaching, and I'm anxious about our upcoming trip to Illinois for my grandmother's funeral. Since each coat of plaster must cure for ten days before the next can be applied, we'll lose more than a week of time if we leave any straw walls uncovered while we're gone.

After a few days of working at our normal pace, I realize that there's no way we'll finish before leaving unless we do something drastic. And so, I rally all of my remaining house-building energy to spearhead a plastering marathon. For several nights, Tyler and I stay up working until 2AM, singing loudly (to everything from Sublime to Cake to Tool) while shoving snacks into our mouths. We're both muscling through painful wrist fatigue as well as sore shoulders and forearms to keep going.

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning we're due to leave, we finish the very last section of wall. There is no more straw visible. Good riddance. Each day we're gone, this plaster will be slowly curing. We did it!