Heinous choices

Would you rather grade the last four lab reports or clean the mold from behind the dressers?

I don’t remember exactly when I discovered the mold behind the dressers. I think it was when we were bringing the onions in. We had to mobilize every table we owned, including the craft table that was stowed next the row of four dressers that are lined up against an outside wall in the basement. I know, I know, what normal person needs four dressers? In my defense, only two of the dressers are truly mine, and two of the dressers are really fairly small lingerie chests. Two are historical items from the big house in Michigan. One dresser used to be my brother’s; one lingerie chest I don’t even remember. The latter is still full of my parents’ things including but not limited to basket making supplies and safety goggles. You never know when you might need them. Of the remaining three, I use about half the space for everyday items and the other half for long-term storage.

Back to our story. When I pulled out the table for the onions, I saw black irregular splotches on the white plastic. I swore, cleaned the table, and put the larger cleaning on my To Do list. Every week since I copied “Clean behind dressers” from the last weekend’s list to the next one. Until yesterday. Not only was my other choice grading lab papers, which I loathe, but also I woke up with a wicked sinus headache for the bazillionth time. Enough. Terry helped me move the dressers away from the wall. I put on an industrial dust mask that made me look and sound like Darth Vader.  

Luke, I am you father

The floor tiles were completely black. The cement wall had spots of mildew to a height of two to three feet. Okay, I thought, this won’t take long. It’s not a large area.

The project went according to Kay’s Law: Nothing is ever easy. (Kay was one of my office mates when I worked for the Girl Scouts.) Because that corner of the basement has no electrical outlets. I got the cordless hand vac to suck up all the dead bugs. I couldn’t figure out how to take it apart to dump it. After struggling with it for a few minutes, I left that part for Terry. Next, I contemplated my choices for what to use in the mop water. Since we’ve had a cleaning lady for the last two and a half years, our stash of cleaning supplies has dwindled. All I could find was an ancient small tub of OxyClean under the laundry sink. The plastic shattered on one side when I tried to lift it. It was a Big Mess. The only reason it wasn’t a Huge Big Mess was that most of the OxyClean had petrified into a lump on the bottom. Only the loose granules on the top spilled into the cabinet. I carefully tipped the container so the sound side was down and carried the remains to the kitchen. Then I got the hand vac and cleaned the cabinet and the trail of OxyClean that went from the cabinet to the kitchen.

Mop? Where is the mop? Don’t we still have a mop? Ah, behind the door in the store room. I knew where the mop bucket was. I broke off a hunk of OxyClean and put it in the bucket, once again scattering granules from here to Kingdom Come. With the OxyClean dissolved in hot water, I mopped for the first time. I replaced the OxyClean water with bleach water. I scrubbed the walls and floor where the mop didn’t reach. Oh, wait. Shouldn’t I be wearing rubber gloves? Those are under the kitchen sink. I wiped off the backs of the dressers. I mopped up the excess. I changed the bleach water about halfway through.

I was making good progress. I decided the best way to clean underneath the largest dresser was to take out the drawers and tip it forward. The top four drawers went well. The bottom drawer had mold in it. Nothing is ever easy. I unloaded the clothes. The drawer contained my good jeans (defined as not having garden stains on the knees), my jungle pants, and sentimental items such as a pair of scrubs from my respiratory therapy days, a stethoscope from that same era (you never know when you might need it), and my Hawaiian shirts. I put the scrubs and my pink flamingo shirt in the laundry. I don’t even know if the scrubs would still fit me. With a heavy heart, I threw away my original Wa-Ha Hawaiian shirt that has been with me since the early 80’s. It looked like it wouldn’t survive a trip through the washer. Sigh.

I bleached the drawer. I bleached inside the dresser. I bleached underneath the dresser, and under all the other dressers. I was relieved to find that only one dresser had internal mildew.

Two hours after I started on a project that I thought would take 30 minutes, I finished by stringing an extension cord for a fan to get everything in that corner nice and dry. Then I tackled the cobwebs and dust behind the headboard in the bedroom, as long as I had the respirator on.

By this time, I'd forgotten all about the OxyClean sitting on the kitchen counter. It was not a pleasant surprise. I broke up the lumps on a piece of newspaper. I inferred from my experience that long-term storage in plastic was not a good idea. I poured it all into a Mason jar. Then I swept up all the granules that had flown all over the kitchen.

Terry helped move the dressers back into a new and airier configuration. As he shoved a dresser back toward the wall, I said, “Stop! Leave it there!” where “there” was about 4 inches from the wall.

“Forever?” he asked.

“Forever.” I answered. At best, the increased circulation will prevent the mold from growing back. At least I will be able to easily look behind the dressers to see what’s going on.

I had a cup of tea and my lunch. After all that, the lab papers didn’t seem so bad. At least I got to sit down.

I pleased to report that I did not have a headache when I woke up this morning.