Learning Hoosier. Ch1 The Lucky Fucking Mushroom.

This really isn't the first memory this is just the first one I have decided to record. I will have to catch up in fill in the blanks such as Becky or out first week in this house at another time. For now we are going to talk about the Lucky Mushroom.

Our bathroom has the smelly brown carpet that somewhat reminds me of the orange and brown felt couch from the 80's that my Aunt Gayle used to have (you know the one with felt cushions on the rustic over waxed wood frame). Thought I have made my best effort to remain positive about our humble abode by chanting $150 a month over and over, I cannot bring myself to not complain about this carpet to anyone who will listen even if it's my inner narrator at least every other day.

Today though, today was special. As any other female who's bladder seems to shrink when I drink coffee I headed to the bathroom to tinkle. I have to close the door to reach the toilet paper holder as it is located on the back of the door. I really should probably close it the whole time anyway because it is attached directly to the kitchen, but who has time for that? I was making a mental note that I either need to put a basket in the corner again or stop being lazy and put my gym clothes in the basket by the washer, which is also conveniently located in the kitchen (this I don't mind as it makes me feel like Julia Child.) Then I saw it and horror struck!

I quickly wiped flushed and ran out the kitchen while pulling up my pants to the living room where my husband sat playing his video game on our 'Couch' by couch I mean futon, and by futon I mean it resembles one just... well with everything wrong, that's another story.

"So I don't know how to say this", I stammer realizing that I sound like I am about to tell him that we're expecting and need to correct my course of action, "THERE'S A MUSHROOM IN THE BATHROOM!" I blurt out. Of course he starts laughing. I am glad that one thing we have in common is me and my husband tend to laugh at fucked up shit in our lives.

He follows me and I point out the brown impostor that is perched on it's long ivory stem sticking out of the grout in the corner where the shower meets the wall. Let me take a moment to explain my shower to you, it is a 2X2 shower with sliding glass doors that meet on the front left corner, you really need to move both doors if you want to enter comfortably, but we tend to leave the front one closed as the wheel track has somehow been dented by a previous tenant (I really don't want to know but can't help but think of some risque scenarios. Also it was my father-in-law). Sometimes the corner of the door pops off and the glass plane comes crashing into you as water sprays onto the already dank smelling carpet. Sometimes, if you're exceptionally lucky that day, the little wheel will pop off and you have to precariously perch the glass door on the ledge until you finally convince your husband to fix it. That's still not the best feature, the shower head sits at about 62 inches... or 5 feet 2 inches. We were forced to by a removable shower head so we could stop attempting to become contortionist as we washed our hair, our limbo game has suffered since the replacement, but we at least can get an allover clean feeling without a yoga session.

"It's a lucky mushroom", he is still chuckling not at the mushroom situation necessarily more at his mortified wife from Florida who when she sees a mushroom assumed black mold and starts counting down the days until she will die a horrible lung collapsing gasping death. I kick him out and begin bleaching the whole carpet and bathroom.

We have already agreed to tile the floor, it was the only way I would agree to stay here until at least the New Year. It's the end of August, we have been here since June. I am determined to survive no matter how much the fungus battles. This war will push on but I will not give up!

In the meantime we are going to buy tile tomorrow, and rip the carpet up next week. Good luck to me when I see what's underneath the carpet.