Deep winter has arrived on the island and I find myself wearing socks. I never realized how much I enjoyed a nice, fluffy pair of socks until I went without for almost eleven months. It’s nice to be back in the softness for a while. Island folk say that this is the dry season, but we’ve had a spot of rain almost every day. Granted, it’s not pouring all day long like it does during the wet season, but it would be nice to just have solid, blazing sun to help take the tiny chill out of the air.
A bizarre bit of karma has come my way and at this point, I can’t say that I didn’t expect it. When we first arrived on the island I went to our neighborhood supermarket to do some grocery shopping. While standing in the check-out line, I noticed a rather pungent musty smell coming from the guy ahead of me.
My immediate thought was that the guy was homeless. Quite a strong and rather non-politically correct thought to just rush into, but that was the first thing that entered my head. Perhaps, my reaction was triggered from some olfactory memory that I had stored away from my days of working in downtown Chicago and walking by the homeless people on my way to and from the office?
That first whiff of ‘wet-cardboard-box-under-the-bridge’ smell was last winter. Now, this winter, I find myself smelling a lovely shade of mold. Green and fluffy to be exact and it’s everywhere. If there are gods of karma who control the universe of mold, they have made themselves present and right at home in our house.
And so for the past few days I have been removing every shoe and every article of clothing from the closets, sponging them down and placing them outside, when the mighty sun is shining, to dry and to hopefully kill the mold spores.
The Mauritian mold really seems to dig the bottom of leather shoes, the top of leather shoes, certain types of synthetic fabrics and pretty much anything that was tucked somewhere during our hot and humid summer. At first, I freaked and complained and marched about yelling about how evil the rotten mold was, but now after having spent some quality time with Sir Spore and his friend Master Mold, I’m just tuckered out from trying to win the battle.
By luck and perhaps because it is the season for mold – hurrah! Get out your moldy wooden kitchen spoons (oh yes, it’s even there) and whip up some moldin’ fixins for a sportastic party! – I did manage to find a anti-moisture product that is newly stocked on the shelves of our local market.
My dreamy hope is that with fresh air, sunshine and a good squirt of whatever this toxic product is, the mold will leave and not return until next winter. But until that fine day comes, you’ll know me as I pass you by. I’m the one that smells just a tad musty.
