MOULD

My summer clothes have grown MOULD.

Mould. How gross can you get? What is WRONG with this country?!?!

It's been bad enough that, for the past 7 months, I've had to limit myself to outfits suitable for sustained (indoor!) exposure to 15C. A damp 15C. I'm a central-heating-phile Canadian... how many friggin outfits like that do you think I own?!?! Maybe 10?

So, much to the disgust of my fashion sense, I've been wearing and rewearing (and rewearing) these ten outfits. FOR SEVEN MONTHS. I look like a homeless fashion victim. My workmates must think I'm living out of a backpack.

But that's ok. Because warmer weather is coming, and maybe one day -- one day -- I'll be able to once again express myself through my beloved clothing. My beloved, painstakingly-chosen, often expensive, and absolutely integral-to-my-sanity clothing. They plead to me, "Karla... Karla... when are you going to wear us again? You havent forgotten about us, have you? We love you!"... to which I, with a heart full of sadness, must say "Soon, soon. The weather is warming, and soon we can be together again."

Today, it was finally a bit warmer. Not warm enough for summer clothes, mind you, but I just couldnt take waiting any longer. I don't care, I'll just be cold. My poor clothes...

So I gleefully pull out all my summer clothes, only to see... green spots? Brown fuzz?! What the -- ?!?!!?

New Zealand's shoddy infrastructure has violated my beloved clothing. My inner sanctum is covered in MOULD. THIS IS NOT OK.

So now, I get to spend my weekend lovingly resuscitating (hand-washing) my beauties. As if I didnt already have enough to do. Mould... what is WRONG with this country?!?!!?