This is not my house.
This is the neighbor’s house. CandyMan wore a mask and braved a trip into the house next door, armed with a flashlight and a camera.
He survived.
The good news? The mold was NOT, in fact 4 feet up the walls. It was only about 2 1/2 feet up.
The house IS, in fact, owned by a bank, not a person. Paper-work, shmaper work.
A mold remediation company has started the work of tearing out and replacing the basement walls and floors next door.
The bad news? We’re still stuck. Nobody wants to test our house as part of this process. We have hired a company to come and do that, out of our pockets (which are already empty). But in the end, it’s worth some peace of mind.
Right now, I have a thousand words to say about and to those involved in this mess next door. But none of them are words that I would normally use. Especially on my blog. So you’ll have to use your imagination. I am ticked off!
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