Dear Mould: Don't eff around. Regards, Me.

For most of the year, the humidity on the Rock is very high (it hit 98% in the summer). For my skin and hair, this is fabulous. My hair has never grown faster and I hardly ever need to use moisturizer. But it's not all good news. With houses made out of coral and rock, that means that dealing with dampness in the home is just a regular part of life here - a fact which we have recently become acutely aware of.

Our previous apartment, which was in a 400 year-old building, was framed and drywalled, much like a house in Canada. There are probably 3 houses like that on the whole is VERY rare. I'm guessing this is because moisture + drywall = eventual disaster. But, our apartment was dry as a bone, all year round. It was fabulous. Besides the lovely floors, it was pretty much the best thing about the place.

Our new apartment is less than a year old. However, it is a regular-style house, made out of coral, cinder blocks and cement. No moisture barrier. No drywall. Not dry.

I noticed it shortly after we moved in...a bit of a coldness in the sheets tipped me off one night and then the fact that it took 3 days for a pair of jeans to dry on a hanger sealed it for me. We are now officially living in a regular house and now we have to deal with what everyone else is dealing with: the War on Mould. gross. I'm not a fan. Up until now, my experiences with mould have been confined to the food variety - leaving an open juice box in my locker for weeks on end would normally sprout something pretty, and there has been more than one container of forgotten leftovers in my fridge that was "discovered" to be a greener shade than necessary. I'm not happens.

But when mould sprouts on my SHOES...everything changes.

This evening, Kurt and I were having a casual conversation in the closet (our closet is huge - larger than our bathroom) and I randomly pulled my beloved Frye sandals out of the shoe organizer to discover this:

Oh, hell no.

Yes, that is a crop of mould on my lovely sandal. A tiny green forest of gross.

Disgusted, I pulled out all of my shoes and discovered that The Mould had invaded another favorite pair, my Born sandals (you will probably note how similar they are to the least the Mould has good taste):

I said some words that I don't feel comfortable repeating on my blog, gathered up my beloved sandals and every bottle of shoe product that has ever been hawked (successfully, apparently) to me by shoe sales people, and got to work in the kitchen.

30 minutes later, my pulse had gone back to a regular pace and my sandals were looking as good as new. Some shampoo and conditioner were all it took to bring them back to life. However, I'm now freaking out about everything else in my closet. clothes. My luggage. My PURSES. My pashmina collection. What else is quietly becoming a home to The Mould? I don't really care to find out.

We got some closet heaters from a co-worker of mine and installed them immediately. They don't heat up much - just enough to zap the moisture from the air. Hopefully that's enough to prevent future invasions. Until then...daily inspections. in the tropics. Always a pleasure.


Anonymous said...

I had a minor mould panic attack whilst reading today's entry. Oh.My.Mouldy.God.

I need to go for a walk, in the snow, where mould can never grow.

(ya, I know)


Heatherness said...


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