There surely are times it's nice to have a man about the house...

(with many strong feelings of gratitude for all my honey does)....

Today I discovered the source of the mildew smell as we entered the house.  We'd thought it was the sponges (it's pretty humid here, and the sponges don't dry well -- and the house IS small).  Nope.  Widespread mildew next to the door, under the sofa, etc.  Sigh.  I've emailed the rental agent just to let the owner know that there's a moisture problem ('cause I'm SURE she doesn't already know). 

Think this could smell?  Huh? (Achoo!)

In the meantime, I'm in this smelly house with a hyperactive boy who doesn't understand why he should do grammar if he doesn't like it. 

The girls are hiding in their room, comfortably ensconced.

Then Jeremy is making dinner -- "hey, cool, look at the octopus's eyes!  And I found the ink sac -- NEAT!"  "Should I cut off the head or should we cook it?"  "Ooh -- I can make the head into a BUCKET" "I think I should take this cord out...I'm not sure we want to eat it."  "Hey, look at what the tentacles do when they cook!"

Here comes Florence, completely grossed out, James is jumping up every 5 seconds -- "Can I see?"

I went down to the ONE negozio d'alimentari that was open (it's Thursday, after all.  Why would anyone need anything on a Thursday?" for bleach.  The lady persuaded me that vinegar was better for the paint -- so that's fine.  I have to laugh -- she gave me white wine vinegar  -- forget just plain ole vinegar -- this is the Wine Kingdom!

The kids, bless them, sponged down all the mildew.  So now our house smells like a rather strong pickle, without the dill. It did come off beautifully, and pickle smell beats pool every time.

The ONE light in the kitchen has burned out and we keep forgetting to get a new bulb (and it's a really weird one -- I'm not sure if it's common here or not) -- and you have to stand on the counter and remove six clips off a nasty greasy fixture with four fingers, being careful not to let either piece of glass fall out & shatter on the counter.  I couldn't quite reach from the woggy chairs and I didn't like the looks of the counter -- so after trying for a bit, I "let" Eleanor do that.

And Florence just told me that the sink won't drain. 

Oh, hubby?  Where are you?  I have a "honey-do" list for you!!!!

Truthfully, I really have nothing to complain about.  I have a lovely, independent son who is cooking MY dinner, I have helpful children, and I have the chance to be here.  And I guess, given the concrete structures, mildew is part of La Dolce Vita. 

Oh -- if you're wondering -- mold is "muffa" in Italian.

Cheers,

Alexandra