i mean, besides looking disgusting and having potentially hazardous health effects... the family of mold that moved into my bedroom did it quietly, kindly and with a sheepishness that is found in small boys who've been caught eating snow.
the mold has been patient. it's been kind. i'm sure it's been selfless since it has no sense of self. and i like to imagine that it was not boastful to other members of the mold community that have gotten comfortable in our bathroom.
but, as much as my bedroom mold manifests the characteristics of love, i must, say good-bye.
thus, today, the "painters" came. and tonight, when i glance to my left. i only see traces of what existed of my simple friend.
yes.
traces.
shadowy outlines.
graven reminders that perhaps my moldly friend may be quiet, but not pacifistic.
and that is because my friends (or enemies) the "painters" most likely did one of two things:
- painted over the mold (not much of a fight, mr. mold).
or
- treated it, but then painted the wet wall (only providing more moisture which leads to... you guessed it, more mold!).
and this is best captured in one word:
annoying.
and my response is best expressed by:
aggravation.
dramatic fist pumps.
the mold.
my friend.
my neighbor.
my shy, but bold fighting fellow.
this
will not
end well.
mold in december:
mold last week:
'nuff said.
Maybe you only think you're seeing shadows because you're afraid that if it's really gone you'll start missing it is a way that you're not ready to handle.....??? :)
ReplyDeleteDramatic fist pumps are therapeutic, I think. Never stop fighting. (When it comes to mold, anyway.)
marta.
ReplyDeletemaybe that's true.
maybe i actually have deep desires for the mold and its companionship.
thank you for your encouragement and support. :)