It
was a complete shit show. My cat peed on himself on the plane (there
will be a belated blog entry about that soon), I TOOK a cat on a plane, I
arrived at 5am and got to sleep for a total of 2 hours before going to
get my keys. And then I got to my apartment...
It looked like it had been used as a petting zoo for two years. Now, we all know my love of zoos (if this confuses you see the previous blog entries) but I do not appreciate living in one. The entire thing was covered in a thick layer of yuck which resulted in the purchasing (and using) of $90 worth of cleaning products. It took me two hours to scrub HALF OF THE DAMN SHOWER, guys. Not even the whole thing! I had to take a break when the [probably toxic] combination of bleach, scrubbing bubbles, and clorox wipes had made my fingernails as floppy as tissues. It didn’t even seem to phase the mold though. There was so much of it that it seemed like at any minute I would hear it growling at me and realize that I was in fact trying to single-handedly obliterate a black bear living behind the wall that had gotten its fur stuck in the grout. The blinds were so dirty that even the professional cleaners (who came after Sheryl and I had a panic attack and called our landlord to keep ourselves from jumping out the window... which in all reality wouldn’t have even injured us since we’re on the first/second floor but you never know what kind of crazy ideas can result from low ventilation and toxic mold fumes. We probably would have at least been badly bruised.) told us that the blinds couldn’t be cleaned. The dirt had become one with the blinds. I’d be surprised if there was any plastic left on them at all.
After all of this, I had to navigate my way through the bus system to get to class. Note to all future students: never spend a weekend moving and locking yourself in fumey apartments when you have first impressions to make. Case in point, my introduction:
“My name is Claire and I’m from California and I just moved here a few days ago and I’ve been in the bathroom since then. NO. Not that I’ve been like in the bathroom I’ve been like in the bathroom. You know. Chiseling mold off the walls. I HATE MOLD. Oh wait, I was supposed to talk about social work.”
And then I talked about social work. And mold. I’m pretty sure my class could have made a drinking game out of my mold monologue. You know, if they did things like drink in class. Which you don’t because it’s grad school. Or school in general. What is happening right now? I’m pretty sure the mold is taking over.
Despite all of this I managed to make a few new friends. Either that or I scared them so much they felt the need to social work me and not leave the manic mold girl from California alone for everyone’s safety. Especially the mold’s.
It looked like it had been used as a petting zoo for two years. Now, we all know my love of zoos (if this confuses you see the previous blog entries) but I do not appreciate living in one. The entire thing was covered in a thick layer of yuck which resulted in the purchasing (and using) of $90 worth of cleaning products. It took me two hours to scrub HALF OF THE DAMN SHOWER, guys. Not even the whole thing! I had to take a break when the [probably toxic] combination of bleach, scrubbing bubbles, and clorox wipes had made my fingernails as floppy as tissues. It didn’t even seem to phase the mold though. There was so much of it that it seemed like at any minute I would hear it growling at me and realize that I was in fact trying to single-handedly obliterate a black bear living behind the wall that had gotten its fur stuck in the grout. The blinds were so dirty that even the professional cleaners (who came after Sheryl and I had a panic attack and called our landlord to keep ourselves from jumping out the window... which in all reality wouldn’t have even injured us since we’re on the first/second floor but you never know what kind of crazy ideas can result from low ventilation and toxic mold fumes. We probably would have at least been badly bruised.) told us that the blinds couldn’t be cleaned. The dirt had become one with the blinds. I’d be surprised if there was any plastic left on them at all.
After all of this, I had to navigate my way through the bus system to get to class. Note to all future students: never spend a weekend moving and locking yourself in fumey apartments when you have first impressions to make. Case in point, my introduction:
“My name is Claire and I’m from California and I just moved here a few days ago and I’ve been in the bathroom since then. NO. Not that I’ve been like in the bathroom I’ve been like in the bathroom. You know. Chiseling mold off the walls. I HATE MOLD. Oh wait, I was supposed to talk about social work.”
And then I talked about social work. And mold. I’m pretty sure my class could have made a drinking game out of my mold monologue. You know, if they did things like drink in class. Which you don’t because it’s grad school. Or school in general. What is happening right now? I’m pretty sure the mold is taking over.
Despite all of this I managed to make a few new friends. Either that or I scared them so much they felt the need to social work me and not leave the manic mold girl from California alone for everyone’s safety. Especially the mold’s.
