funk_49 tender_square the wallpaper was indestructible; aegean with small white blossoms. my fingernails could only peel so much stick. dad and i sprayed our respective sides down with a shared squirt bottle of warm water. "let it penetrate the layers," he said when i rushed it. we scraped with chisels, tips flush to avoid gouges, but we only got some glue. "we need the stuff," he said. "i want to call it acetone, but its something else." at home hardware, i bought a small concentrated bottle of something clear that mixed with water and pulverized paste. back at my place, we washed the wall and the paper complied, flaking and tearing in satisfying strips. the classic vinyl station was our soundtrack as we huffed with effort and sipped mcdonalds coffees during breaks. "james gang!" he exclaimed, and i cranked the bluetooth speaker. there were moments where he forgot what we were doing; did the sanding come first or the mudding? i just acted like every ask was the first time and explained it again. but he could recall joe walsh's career pre-eagles and all the shenanigans of sleeping all day and going out all night. 230131 what's it to you? who go blather from