And then there was mold...

So I was stuck in my apartment all weekend. More specifically in my bedroom. And it wasn't the good kind of "I didn't leave my bedroom for days" because well, I was alone. And I had two buckets of paint with me, an electric sander, too much dust as a result, paint and primer stuck to my legs and arms (and face and hair…), and as I registered at some point, I didn't smell so good either. Heck, I really was stinking.

So my whole idea of painting my bedroom a faux suede finish, after buying the paint over a year ago (really!) wasn't a bad one. I took the paint to the store and asked them to shake it for me, as I was sure, after a year sitting under my sink, the color wasn't too well mixed. I made no plans for Thanksgiving, aside from an after-party that by the time it was supposed to start, I was way too beat to leave the house, and ended up skipping it to get my hands dirty instead.

So Thursday morning I woke up and started cleaning. Because, well, I had to clean my place up… It was a mess. (I think it's one of those gnomes Dagny talks about…) By Friday morning I gave up on this whole cleaning my place idea, stuffed as much as it would fit in my walk-in-closet, threw the rest of the stuff in the middle of the living room, and got to work. Moved furniture around in my bedroom (with a bed, a nightstand and five --yep, five -- dressers, that's some muscle power there), took pictures off the wall (boy do I have way too many pictures hanging on my wall!) and started painting the wall behind the bed. Because that is where the dark blue suede paint was going to. And when 6am came around, I had just finished my second coat of paint. It looked awesome. I sat for a good half hour on my dusty bed staring at it, before texting my friend "there's no way I'm making it to the running club in two hours" turning my ringer off, and finally dozing off.

Saturday, more work to do. The bedroom entrance and another one of the walls, with the beige faux suede finish. Less furniture to move around, more intricate details (so many doors!) to tape off and work around. The beige required me to prime my previously green walls so that the color would come out right, so even more work to do. My hands were killing me by the end. Oh, the faux suede finish? You roll the first coat. The second? You paint it with a 3" brush. The WHOLE FREAKING WALL. With a 3" brush.

I was done in the wee hours of the morning again, wondering if I would have enough beige paint for the rest of the bedroom, and passed out on my dusty bed while the cat meowed too loudly outside the door hoping to get in (like I would let all that cat hair inside before the walls were even dry!).

Sunday I woke up exhausted. Could barely move my body. But it was the last two sections of walls (one part being only below the window), that really shouldn't be that bad. I just wanted to really get it over with. I couldn't wait to be done, and have my brand new bedroom ready! The painting from the previous two days looked great, my bedroom was looking cozy already!

I started moving all the furniture to the other side of the room. To the side where my walk-in closet door was at, because I was going to move everything back that day, right? When I got to my last dresser, I noticed a water stain on the bottom. Huh. The carpet below it didn't look too good either. Lifting the corner, the wood floor underneath was rotten, as in, break-it-with-your-fingertips rotten. The column that sits in the corner next to the window and my convector (where my dresser was next to) looked a bit funny. Paint was cracking a bit, so I put the scraper to work. And then I found mold. Right in between the drywall and the spackle (that came off along with the old paint). Not tons of mold, but definitely black fuzzy mold. You know, the one that is supposed to do horrible things to your health? Yeah.

At that point, I just wanted to be done with the painting, I was tired, my muscles were aching, I had callus forming on the palms of my hands. So my first immediate solution was to sit down on the floor and cry. A sobbing cry, really. Because how the hell would I fix that? And the wall was dry, what do I know about leaks and fixing it, and repairing mold (which is apparently worse than the devil according to my google searches about it).

Then I composed myself and called my dad. Because of course he would know what to do all the way from Rio de Janeiro, right? Oh, no? What sit and observe and see if it gets wet??? How about my painting, damn it? Having a normal bedroom again? And my suede paint that's supposed to be inviting and relaxing! My next friend was still half asleep and didn't know a thing about mold. The other one mentioned how next time he was in my area, he could swing by and take a look at it. Except he lives and work in MD. That might take a while.

My other immediate solution? Went back to my dusty bed and passed out for 3 hours. I needed the sleep. And I would need clothes for the next day, and the closet door was blocked off by a bed and five dressers. After my nap, and a good loooooong shower, I finally moved the furniture back in place. I almost dropped my TV on my attempt to put it back, my strength was definitely not the same as it was that morning, but luckily no damage was done.

I went to bed the last two nights staring at my blue, beige and green walls, with a scraped up column staring back at me, reminding me that as independent as I am, damn, it would be nice to have a man around sometimes.