(You know how a story is really funny in person? And you call all your friends and tell them and everyone's hysterically laughing and it's the bestest story ever and then you try to write it and it just ....doesn't translate? Yeah. So. Sorry about that. You really should just give me your phone numbers I think.)
Anyway, lately I've been packing. My face. With Lean Pockets mostly. But, I've also been packing the contents of "my" house and that pleases me to no end, this house not actually being mine and all. Also, the mold is not mine. Mold which has appeared in the downstairs bathroom and refuses to leave no matter how many angry looks I give it. (Sort of like my old high school friend who came to visit "for a few days" and showed up with her unemployed husband and three boys and stayed for an entire week and clogged our toilets and broke our dishes and gave me hives until Chris and I started throwing shoes at them to get them to leave.)
This mold is sort of like that, but without the memories.
Anyway, mold may seem boring to you dear folks, but here it is all the rage. And by rage I mean actual rage because as soon as we moved into this house Savannah developed a persistent cough that turned my brain inside out with all the Googling because dear God if the steroids and antibiotics and freaking breathing machine weren't going to do the trick after 4 months, what the hell was wrong with my child?!
Naturally, I was driven into the arms of an Indian man (and that's not a figure of speech. he hugged me.) who smelled of jasmine and vinegar and deli meats - not as pleasant as you would think actually - and he turned out to be the most brilliant of Indian medicine men I have ever met (which so far is one).
He took my hands into his at his little natural healing shop and asked me what brought me here today. (I said "my car". Boy, how we laughed. ) When I told him about Savannah's cough he asked her age and if I could imitate the cough for him. He leaned in close while I coughed on his turban (I couldn't make this stuff up) and then closed his eyes, inhaled, and plucked a large bottle of this from the shelf behind him. It was expensive - almost $100 - but after ONE DOSE, Savannah's cough completely disappeared. Completely! (Which was such a relief because the mean moms were starting to brightly suggest that "maybe it's TB!".)
(I totally didn't plan on this post taking such a wild detour. Where am I?)
Anyway, I thought all was well and good until the same cough developed in Chris a few months later. (Of course I was immune because of my super human powers. That and a steady supply of Sour Patch Kids.) That's when we realized that the air conditioning in this house is likely circulating mold. Awesome with a capital F!
Fast forward 1 year and 5 leaks later to when I found mold in the bathroom. The owner showed up, used a moisture detector (Internet: Yes, we heard) and showed me that the entire floor and wall were wet.
I then called Mrs. Owner and our conversation went like this:
Me: "Hi. There's moisture all over in the bathroom and Mr. Owner said that the wall and floor need to come out."You know where this is going right? She hung up the phone and cashed our rent check that very day for the full amount. Love. Her. Am making her a special gift. Out of a small doll and many pins.
Her: "No. It simple."
Me: "Uh, it's not simple. There will be more construction now."
Her: "No. It just toilet."
Me: "Did Mr. Owner tell you that there's visible black mold growing?"
Me: "Did he tell you that there's water under the floor?"
Me: "So, can we get a rent credit, you think?"
Her: "Nooooo. No. I don't think so."
Me: "Did he tell you that I'm going to set fire to your car tonight?"
Okay, that was in my head. What I really said was "This is our fifth leak. Can you at least think about it and not cash my check until we come to an agreement?"
Her: "Yes. I will call you tonight".
Me: "So, don't cash our check."
As if that wasn't bad enough, then they even refused to fix the floor and wall in the bathroom. Even though there's moisture underneath! Growing visible mold! Mold is still bad, right? Did I miss some sort of breakthrough that it's the next acai berry or something?
So, we gave notice. They sent their agent. I sexually harassed him and then, lo and behold, guess what came in the mail yesterday? Our entire deposit plus 1/2 month's rent credit! Before we've even moved out! Couldn't you just die from the wonderfulness of it all? I'm now rethinking the voodoo doll. Maybe I'll just buy her a pretty dress and name her Sparky.
I don't which packed the more powerful punch - the mold or the cleavage. Since I nursed and I'm 30 hundred years old, I'm going to go with the mold. It is pretty compelling, right? You be the judge.
That toxic fungus. It wins every time.
In other news, as if our windfall (of our own money) weren't enough of a kick in the pants, guess who suddenly moved her daughter out of the school? Girl C! Just up and moved her daughter out with an email to us all that her daughter got into a school she'd been "waitlisted" for. (Another way of saying "later, public school bitches!".) I don't know what I'm going to miss more, her or the mold.
So, things are lovely here for a brief moment and I'm just going to bask in these delightful surprises. Because if I don't...I might start talking about how Chris works at a b-a-n-k. And no one wants to discuss such unpleasantness at this point, right?