I'll admit it: we had a mold issue in our bathroom (sourced by a leaky roof). I say "had" because it's in the process of being "remediated". And when I say, "In the process" I mean, "Our master bathroom has robed itself in a haz-mat suit and constantly sounds as if a clothes dryer is running inside of its belly thanks to the 'air scrubber' which has been sucking our electricity for four days now."
There was a slight mis-communication before all of this started. I was kindly informed that, as the toilet (and possibly the shower) may have to be removed for the cause of gaining easier access to the trouble area, it would be rendered useless for a few days. Not a problem, I thought, we have another bathroom. Slightly inconvenient, yes, but not a major issue in the grand scheme of things.
What I failed to understand was that the facilities were not the only part of the bathroom which would remain inaccessible for at least half of a week. The entire bathroom beyond our sinks looks as though E.T. set up camp in the bathtub and the environmental unit has him quarantined. For some, this may not sound so serious - but for those whose closets (thereby entire stock of clothing and footwear) reside in this same room as the toilet and tub, learning this news AFTER all of one's wearable belongings are sealed tightly beyond the boundaries of a zippered plastic wall is not exactly the best time to sort out such a gross misunderstanding.
Therefore, I have spent the last few days running through the smaller-than-a-handful of sweaters kept in the dresser in our bedroom and my husband, after spending a day wearing my t-shirt because he literally does keep every article of clothing in his own dresser inside his closet, was able to regain some of his own garments when the repairmen returned on the second day and gave me an air mask to wear while I dashed in to rescue what I could find. Sadly, everything not in his closet was stowed even further into the recesses of the bathroom beyond yet another seal of plastic (this one with no zipper), so I've been resigned to the one pair of shoes which successfully hid themselves in my frenzied cleaning process only a half hour before the men initially arrived - not my favorite footwear - but it's better than the broken flip flops which take up permanent residence near the back door.
Also as a result of this mess, Philip and I each had our first experiences, after three and a half years in this house, showering in the guest bathroom. And as I, not a short female by any stretch, but certainly not the tallest, either, found myself eye-to-eye with the shower head protruding from the wall, I suddenly had sympathy for every tall guest we've ever had. I would like to take this moment to apologize. We forgot to inspect the home for signs that disgruntled elves may have had any part in the construction of the guest facilities.
Needless to say, while we're surviving (after a late-night toilet paper run - the extra triple-ply Quilted Northern is also being safely protected from any errant mold particles beyond the double-sealed plastic barriers), we're a little more than ready to see the sight of our mold-less bathroom in the days to come.
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