You take a lot of things for granted when you live in a 1-bedroom apartment, namely washing machines. I would let my dirty laundry stack up until they reached the bottom shelf of the closet and only then would I muster up the courage (and the quarters) to tote them to the laundromat. Fortunately, I purchase underwear in bulk quantities to cut down on my laundry expeditions.
But ah, to have a house. We're going to have a washer and dryer delivered soon (read: dropped off by Dad-in-Law) but first have to clean up the squalor in the laundry room left by the previous owners. Ewwww.
I can't really tell the difference between mold and mildew but there's a sufficient amount of either growing in there right now to require a mask, which I do not own. If I was smart, I'd throw a bucket of bleach water in there, close the door, and hope the magical scrubbing power of the chemicals do the work by themselves. We all know that aint going to happen, huh? Do they make "clean" bombs?
It's so cold in there :(. It's right against the garage and lacks central heat and air which makes it very uncomfortable, and unusually smelly. This place hasn't been properly ventilated since, oh, hmm...never?
What's with the ugly-a** wood paneling in here, anyway? I know the house was built in the 70s, but I find it hard to believe that something so lodge-y was so popular in so many homes.
Ha, and check out the floor. Mm hmm. Yeah, that'll be ripped up. I'm starting to wonder...you know how it is when you go to the laundromat and you're taking freshly cleaned clothes out of the dryer? Well, every now and then you drop a sock, or worse, your underwear and swear very loudly at the fact that the dirty floor constitutes you putting that item back in the dirty clothes pile? (Or not--you just blow it off saying "God made dirt and dirt don't hurt" and wear it anyway). Well, the floor in this room is so un-cared for that if I EVER dropped an item of clothing on it, it'd stay there until the floor is ripped out. It's like Chernobyl--everything left in there gets erradiated by some stranger's filth.
I think we'll bust down the wood paneled walls and put up some sheet rock. I'll paint a black and red bullseye on it for me to pound my head against for buying a house that needs so much damn TLC.