I set up the air-compressor then tapped, papered and plastic-ed it off from the rest of the room. When I went for the spray gun however, I realized that I didn't have my spray mask, I had left it at home. Instead of doing the intelligent thing and driving home to get it, I decided to stick around and spray using a regular dust mask. When I was done twenty minutes later, I noticed that my nose felt funny. I looked in the mirror and saw that my nose hairs had a better coat of paint on them than the book shelves did. I may as well have been wearing a bandanna over my face.
I finished the job and went home and proceeded to pluck each one of my nose hairs reminding myself of my stupidity with each tug. This is when I started to wander what my lungs looked like at that moment and got an image in my head of what it might look like. I realized that what I did today really wasn't good for me and that I could very well have caused some serious long term side affects.
Then I remembered all the other times I made less than brilliant decisions during work. Like jumping off a roof to save time and spraining my ankle or taking a drink out of a power washer and about shot a hole through the back of my throat, and I have come to a decision, if I ever die from any unnatural causes, especially if it's work related, I want everyone that actually does come to my funeral to shout "That's what you get, Tim Taylor!" simultaneously upon completion of the sermon.