Last night I was doing my nine thousandth load of laundry (what? I was without a dryer for a couple of days, remember??), attempting to tame the scary laundry Matterhorn, and went to grab some clothing off the laundry room floor when I saw it. The thing that scares me more than anything else in the world, where Logan is concerned. Black mold. Yes, people. Black mold. The stuff that can make sick people sicker, mimic asthma in those who have never had asthma, cause allergic reactions, headaches, fever and yes... even death if there is prolonged exposure or a person with a weak immune system comes in contact with those deadly, toxic spores.
And then I heard it. Allow me to share, so you can experience the horror with me. Go ahead. I'll wait.
I followed the dripping to my water heater closet, opened the door timidly and there it was. Crawling up the walls, matriculating under the door into a split in the vinyl perfectly concealed by the bottom of the door, oozing under the flooring, traveling to the walls of the laundry room, growing under my baseboards, hopping through the common wall to the bathroom *shudder*. I have mold in three rooms of my (rental) house. Ty Pennington, where ARE YOU when I need you??
Okay, okay. I realize that the Miller Family's home was poisoned with Radon gas. But still! I wanna blow up a house....
Oh, FINE. Instead I will play the part of the HazMat/construction worker and rip up floors, take out walls, cut new dry wall, and learn to lay vinyl after replacing sub floor. In a house I don't own. Because I have a stupid landlord. Who won't give us a break on the rent for doing all this. Who hasn't been around since Christmas before last. Who won't take my calls. Who won't do all this FOR us. I must growl now.
Okay. Whining completed. I'm going to climb into my hazmat gear (lookit me, mom! Just like "Hoarders"!!) and start doing some damage. Helpful hints, snarky suggestions, or willingness to help me whine is ALWAYS appreciated in the comment section. ;)
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