Breaking the Mold

Spent the better (or worse) part of yesterday scraping down the rotting bathroom in our rental house. 6 hours on a ladder, looking up, mask and goggles, working through 5 layers of buckled-mold-infested paint over my head. Luckily, this room has no ventilation. The mixture of wallpaper stripper, mildew remover, bleach and caulk fumed into a visible cloud of caustic vapor. Considering the previous night was comprised of a full night's worth of margarita ass shaking, my body had little sweat to add further discomfort to the face mask/safety goggle combo strapped to my head. The mask would not conform to my chin hair in a way conducive to creating a good seal, but this was easily remedied by a clothes pin to the nose with the white, rubber-banded cup only over my lips and chin. 12 hours later, the walls are ready for paint, the caulk in drying, the adhesive residue from the wallpaper is gone, and I am left with no functional shower to wash up in. This all made me very angry. There was no love in the process, just black hatred towards the previous tenants, their inability to make pee pee go in the toilet, and spores in general.