My eyes are irritated and itch, and feel much like they do when I spend a little too much time in a swimming pool or water park, but I came out relatively unscathed. Armed with aerosolized chlorine, I quickly and methodically went about the cleansing. Perhaps there are survivors amidst the destruction in the kill zone, but they will likely die as the basic solution that surrounds them permeates their defenses and renders them extinct from the island that they had colonized.
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On the currents of the wind they were borne, perhaps hitching a breeze from a world away, riding the jet stream, and finally finding purchase in a craggy, inhospitable white desert. Their new world was not an easy place to live, but for the warm steam that enveloped their landscape periodically and condensed on the semi-smooth finish of the bumpy terrain. This ephemeral feast of moisture provided an ample supply of water upon which they depended on for their survival, forming the very foundation of their sustenance. From above, the colonies looked like eggs, cracked out of their shells. The outer "albumin" was clear, surrounding a loogie-colored yolk which they used to capture mana from heaven. Organic detritus, bourne upon the same breezes that brought them here, got snagged in the slime to be shared.
Slowly, the colony reached a point where its growth was limited by its size. At this point, a few explorers broke off from the group, and divided. This process was repeated for generation after generation and as the numbers of colonies grew, their population divided into distinct fiefdoms, spreading across the land. Theirs was a huge monoculture, their kind a breed specially adapted to live in a godforsaken place that supported a precious few lifeforms.
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The colonists had the capability to cause great harm such as breathing difficulties, dizziness, hearing loss, impaired memory, dizziness, flu-like symptoms, excessive bruising, allergies, brain damage, and even death. An uneasy truce existed between us, in an environment that inherently favored them.
If they had eyes, they might have seen the bright orange tip of the spray bottle get within an inch, and then release a solution of bleach and emulsifiers suspended in water. If they were able to feel pain, being oxidized would have likely been an unpleasant way to go. At least it was quick.
It turns out that bleach is not the best way to kill mold that is growing on porous materials, but I figured that the glossy paint of the bathroom ceiling had likely been a sufficient barrier to the mold to sink "roots" into the drywall. I brought a fan into the bathroom and dried it out as best as I could so that any remaining mold wouldn't have any moisture to help it survive.
That being said, the battle may have ended in annihilation, but mold seems to thrive in these moist coastal areas. It will be back, but for now the bathroom is rid of the disgusting growths that had been taking over from above.
Behold the novelization of Finding Nemo!
I hear you. That old house is rife with mold so it's good you used bleach to cleanse the ceiling. You gotta keep the airflow going and perhaps in the near future, it will be time to look for healthier digs!
Dude, what is it with you and mold?
Two words:
My Hero.