Cleanliness is next to…impossible

It has been previously well established in my blog posts that I am an anal perfectionist. This analness evades every aspect of my life, but nowhere is it more visibly apparent than in the lengths I take to organize and clean my immediate physical environment (in the states the shirts in my closet were organized by sleeve length, type, and color, all hanging in the same direction on a certain wooden hanger…as my friends can attest, I always knew when someone had moved something). While I lack in almost all other domestic skills, I do keep a sterile home…well, did.

My definition of a clean environment has been on a steady decline since my arrival in Guatemala and has now reached an all-time low. Dust bunnies are the least of my concerns. I have been battling bugs, insects, and spiders (occasionally the size of my fist) and am now at the point of concession. Previously armed with a can of Raid, I was spraying every living thing that dared enter my line of sight, until I realized I would sooner kill myself from the fumes than alleviate my pest problem. Then I took to keeping a flip-flop or magazine on hand to smash anything I saw crawling, but I just couldn’t keep up. Now I let the bugs infest my walls and floor in relative peace, going on the occasional killing spree to remind them that their whole existence relies on my good graces.

But is it not the bugs and insects that irk me the most. My house and nearly everything in it is covered with mold. With the constant rain of Alta Verapaz, it is a full-fledged mold factory (Dad, is there some way it can be used for biodiesel?). I sleep at night on moldy sheets. I wake up to bath in a moldy shower and dry off with a moldy towel only to put on moldy clothes and moldy shoes. I flip the pages of moldy novels and write in moldy notebooks. Mold is my closest companion.

Fortunately the mold is not causing any health problems (of which I am aware), but it does throw another kink in my personal hygiene maintenance. Getting and staying clean is a bit more challenging than it was in the states. I am extremely thankful to have running water (well, most of the time…there were periods leading up to the elections when there was no water, which I was told was the result of political power plays in an effort to make the current mayor look bad—although I am not exactly sure who has access to the town water switch) and a shower with a heater, but it comes with its own set of quirks. The water rarely gets hotter than lukewarm if that, and I have to shut it off every minute and a half as not to cut the power to my whole house (the switch to turn it back on is outside). Mixing exposed electrical wires and running water is a recipe for disaster, and I have had my fair share of literally shocking morning showers. Given it isn’t a very pleasant experience, I have cut my showering time down to under five minutes—a fact that I am sure my family finds astonishing.

But in spite of the bugs, mold, and electrifying cold showers, I do have a very comfortable living arrangement. It could be better, it could be worse, but, hey, I am in Peace Corps.