Turns out our puddle-producing basement also grows mold. Lovely, I know. Here's just a peek:
I won't post any more
Ok, maybe just one
So after discovering said growths, I've self-diagnosed myself with a mold allergy. (I'm hanging out a shingle tomorrow. Make your appointments early.)
Trouble is I'm here all the time. In the morning. During a morning nap. At lunchtime. In the afternoon. During dinner prep and consumption. Through evening rituals and all night long. I never leave. Well, almost never.
But after labeling our basement a petrie dish, I fled fast and furiously to my in-laws. For a week.
They graciously holed up myself and 3 children for 7 nights. Aren't they saints? We'd trek to their home each evening and unpack (Schnickle packed a suitcase and toted many a tote bag each night) for the night. Then we'd head to school to drop off 2 kiddos before risking life and limb at our own house for most of the day. Then back we'd go, new tote bags and all to start the process over again.
See, if I weren't allergic to the mold (which, by the way, hasn't been verified by an actual MD) I'd be the cleaning crew. I tried. Really I did. But even with a respirator from Lowe's and orange industrial looking gloves, it was not to be.
I've drawn the line this time and roped my hubby and sweet parents into my Forced Labor Camp of Scary Stuff. Bless them one and all.
So, it's mostly gone. And the wood panelling has been treated.
Oh, and I'm sleeping back at home again. Although . . . Kevin did mention that he enjoyed the ceiling fan being on high while I was gone . . . I wonder if mold removal really needed to take a week . . . hmmm . . .
Then I found some more on the main level (and learned all I ever want to know about ice damming). But the good news of all is that our insurance company (three cheers for AAA) will be taking good care of us. It includes carpet and such. Phew. I'll be taking my mask and gloves off too. Expect the glassy, empty look to remain for another week or so.