EW.

As temperatures hit fifty degrees celsius (including humidex) in this stinky, smelly city called Toronto, I brag to my coworkers how cool and comfortable my basement apartment is. I don't suffer sleepless sweaty nights like they do. I don't have 5,000 ceiling fans blowing just to get some air circulation. I can sit comfortably in my living room, watch my TV, and not sweat.

However, I'd gladly trade all of that luxury in to not have what I discovered I have in my apartment recently--MOLD!!! The oh-so-ew and potentially life-threatening fungus is growing in my back room (for those who've been here, I'm refering to my "walk-in closet"). I hadn't noticed this for months and months, I guess, because I have pieces of furniture in my closet. A couple of days ago though, I saw some funny discolorations on the wall, and pulled back a clothes racks to see the mold all over the wall. Me, the germ-a-phobe, screamed a little "eek" and then instantly went to bleach off anything that I got on my hands.

Today was the first day that my landlord was able to come down and take a look. Him, being a good guy, said he'd take care of it right away... even though he admitted that he's not too sure how to handle it. But I trust him. He is, after all, the same guy who after seeing that one of my ceiling lights had gone out, drove out to Home Depot just to get me a replacement bulb. In the interim, I have a dehumidifier blasting away, sucking out the moisture and hopefully killing some of the nasty bacteria back there.