Some of your already know how terrible Jared and I's first apartment was. I mean awful. But chalk it up to newlywed life and "In 10 years we will be GUFFAWING about that time we found 247 flies in our living room, clinging to the walls and blinds like fat, buzzing wallpaper."
New year, new apartment. Shangri-La it may as well be known as. I love our new place. It finally feels like our home. This weekend however, this weekend.
Jared went to take a shower and then yelled at me to come in because we had "An issue". The issue? A FREAKING MUSHROOM. A MUSHROOM GROWING RIGHT NEXT TO OUR SHOWER HEAD. We both freaked out, decided we could never bathe there again, etc, and promptly left our house for the errands of the day.
When we returned, things had gotten out of hand. In 5 hours this little sucker had grown 5 inches. I get the heeby jeebies just thinking about it. UGH UGH UGH UGH UGH. Anyway after some furious googling and a call to our land lord, we dumped salt all over the little beast and opened the window to promote some air flow. I felt like the kid from the Secret Garden "Spores!!! SPORES!"
We're waiting for our landlord to come and save us. In the meantime, I am reminded of an essay from David Sedaris where he questions if he can still be with his partner, knowing that as a child, his boyfriend lived in Africa and once had a Guinea Worm growing in his leg. Don't google that by the way, it's even worse that that disgusting mushroom. This is all to say, can I ever bathe here again? And also, I understand if we can't be friends anymore, seeing as I have this mushroom thing going on. I thought we were safe guys! I thought we were safe. This one may take 15 years to guffaw over.
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