the ulcer

there is an ulcer that’s been growing on the wall of my bathroom for more than three years.

it began as a teeny, tiny fissure in the plaster, likely caused by a less-than-professional patching attempt, either by the former tenants or the maintenance team responsible for repainting prior to me moving in. either way, it was an innocuous little crack, but i spotted it immediately. “i should fix this,” i thought. i knew its location – in spray range of the showerhead – meant it would start to get bigger before long.

and it did.

day by day, week by week, month by month, that once insignificant flaw began to grow. very subtly, very slightly, it grew. at first, the crack got a little wider, then a little longer. then, as moisture found its way underneath, the paint on top started to curl back. again, just a bit at first, but each shower and every bath aided in the ulcer’s growth and the wall’s decay. “i should really fix this,” i thought.

eventually, sesame seed-sized specks of crumbling plaster started dropping into the bathtub. then, somewhat larger chunks, maybe the size of sunflower seeds. and, as the paint continued to peel itself off, i saw how many layers were underneath. all the different colours that the walls had been over the years – teal blue, apricot, beige, darker beige, white. “wow,” i would think. “i need to fix this.”

but i did not, and the ulcer kept expanding.

it started to creep lengthwise along the top of the bathtub tiles one millimeter at a time, so that, after a while, new fissures were spawned on connecting sections of wall and those, too, launched expansion projects as soon as they felt the wet touch of water. and, once more, i thought to myself, “i really should fix this before it gets any bigger.”

time and again, i would look at the blossoming blister and think about what needed to be done to arrest its development and repair the wall. some scraping, some plastering, some painting and some caulking was all there was to it. simple. but i just kept letting it slide. i justified my own inaction and apathy in all sorts of entirely legitimate and truthful ways and, as i put off to tomorrow what should have been done yesterday, the ulcer progressed. and, this spring, once the top layers of paint had fully shriveled and lifted away to expose the plaster underneath, the erosion accelerated.

then, earlier this summer, i suddenly and rather dramatically realized what a terribly perfect metaphor for my life this ulcer had become. i had a very obvious, broken thing screaming out to be fixed but i was not fixing it. i was letting it get worse, letting it flourish, letting it consume... and just watching it all happen.

“that’s enough,” i thought. “i have to fix this.”

in that instant, i decided it was time for me to do something to stop the ulcer’s progression, thwart its relentless destruction, and repair what it had already eaten away. i knew precisely how i would tackle the work, i just wasn’t sure when.

then, this housesitting opportunity fell in my lap.

and, on the day i packed my bag to come here, i finally took a trowel to the rot and started to clean out the open wound so that, at long last, the fix can begin.