Bill's story puts me in mind of the time I had to install washer and dryer circuits to an apartment in an old building. It was in the low part of the roof, blown in insulation about a foot thick, August, 130 degrees in the attic, my glasses were fogging with the ventilator on (didn't have a valved-type) sweat pouring off me, I could just see the hole where a previous sparky about 50 years ago had fed a wire. The roofing nails were protruding in, my glasses had to come off to fit further, after four failed attempts to feed the wire through the same hole, I opted for feeding it through the nearby closet in conduit.
I have never been so claustrophobic in my life. I hate blown-in insulation. I felt smothered in there. (Shudder) Not to mention the scratches from old tetanus infected nails...
It's the only time that I've been beaten.
No wee-beasties or otherwise to deal with...only battling my own mind, and lost.
Then there's the yellow jackets tore out of a hole that a backhoe was digging about 10 feet away from where I was installing the meterbase. I was the first target of their aggression.
