01.04.12 Wednesday (Testing
for Mold)
Keeping a journal, which really is what this blog is in my
case, has never been a strong suit for me. In fact, it’s something I’ve never
been able to do for more than a week, if that. I set so many rules for myself,
rules like: …if I don’t write when it’s immediate, it doesn’t count; if I don’t have something profound to say, it
doesn’t count, I can never go back and recreate a day, it’s lost forever. Talk
about setting myself up for failure. I even get on myself about punctuation and
give up because it’s just so much bother to figure out how to do it right and
heaven forbid I should do IT wrong. Oh yes, and let’s not forget that I must be
poetic and literate, use the right words, and even profound in approach.
Oh my, so many rules. Will this be the same? Let’s hope not
because this entry for Wednesday 01.04.12 is not the beginning; it’s not
written on THE DAY; it’s certainly not poetic as I’m making myself do it (yes, 13
days later if we’re keeping track as I always tend to do) and forcing myself to
just free-write; and it won’t tell everything simply because some things must
just be brushed under the carpet, no pun intended as it was the carpet that
brought us to this day.
Okay, okay, so I will tell just a bit of the back-story…
For days she scrubbed and cleaned.
Late into the night with little lighting, the vacuum whirred, the hum of idle
chatter murmured in the background. Early in the morning, throughout the day,
the aroma of floor cleaners filled the air, battling odors lurking in the
carpet even as the grinding motor slurped, sucked, and swooshed, heated water
sprayed into the fibers attempting to erase memories of eons, embedded stains,
and grime deep beneath the surface…whispering, rushing, swooshing, volume increasing
to a howl, for days, late into the night. And then she left forever…the musty
odor peaked out and looked around. It had survived. It danced. It swirled. It
spun throughout the rooms. It lived to tell its tale of moisture dark and dank,
of mold and mildew, of mycotoxins, of every speck of dirt, dust, spilled drink,
and sickness that ever lived within. It grew and grew and could not be denied.
On
Wednesday he came, armed with his magic microbial modulator whispering, buzzing,
oh so silently luring the spores from hiding, inhaling, gulping, thirsty to inhale
all that ventured out. And then he went too away…the musty odor prevailed.
 |
| Moisture Level? |
 |
| The Trap! |
 |
| Magical Microbial Modulator |
 |
| Hiding place, dank and dark. |
"armed with his magic microbial modulator whispering, buzzing, oh so silently luring the spores from hiding, inhaling, gulping, thirsty to inhale all that ventured out. And then he went too away…the musty odor prevailed."
ReplyDeleteI love the creative twist here. As the English teacher, the use of personification is great. You know, this is what science teachers need to encourage their students to do with writing. Why is the burden of teaching literacy and writing always on the English teacher? Doesn't every teacher have to take "Literacy in the Content Area" ?
Great post!
Hey, you're speaking to the choir here. I believe that life is a web and thus learning should be as well. Somehow I don't think that concept is supported by NCLB nor high power (or pretending to be) independent schools where standardized testing, AP scores, and such rule the day.
DeleteBut thanks for the kind words. Maybe I'll find some non-exhausted time to write more. Just got home from an adult literacy training the the local library.