Anyone else remember those "No Fear" t-shirts that were so popular in the nineties? I had one for soccer. The slogan on it was supposed to convey how bad-ass and balls-out that activity was.
Kind of lame now that I think of it, but I could use one for cleaning.
The mildew smell was not eliminated by my efforts with the fireplace. Reduced, but not eliminated. Since even a hint of mildew is way too much, I decided a full-on assault was the only answer. This meant scrubbing down every wood surface in the dining room.
So the three feet of wainscoting that runs around the entire room, especially behind enormous pieces of furniture that are never moved? Yup, mildew everywhere. Wood floors? Mildew in the corners. Every curve and embellishment on our ornate Chippendale-style chairs? Yuh huh. Mildew. Door frames, window frames, tables, EVERYTHING in this damn room is wood and therefore susceptible to mildewing.
I did some of it last week. I got about half of the rest done in the hour and a half I had during Charlie's nap today. I'll probably be mostly crippled for the rest of the day. All you people who like to get all fit at the gym? Come scrub my house instead. The hours of repetitive motion and awkward bending are just as challenging to the body, and they can't be any more boring than a treadmill.
Only a little bit left to do in the dining room, and then I get to start on the bedroom attached to the dining room, which is so damp it might as well be a cave. And then there's the library. And the living room. And . . .
You know what? Just send me a case of Murphy's Oil Soap and a back brace, okay? I'm gonna need 'em.