I'm so frustrated/angry/upset about this -- we have a mold problem in the spare bedroom that is straight out of the TV show Hoarders, full of Tim's hoard of clothes, shoes, and other stuff he kept because it might come in handy some day.
He's getting shit out of the room (and he's wearing an appropriate respirator), and more importantly, has called a mold remediation company to come check out the situation and let us know what needs to be done (we'll have them check all the rooms in the house, of course; just by looking, it doesn't seem like any of the other rooms have mold, but I don't know, mold spores are tiny).
The rest of the rooms in the house are not Hoarders-style full of stuff, so I don't think the situation is too bad, but even so, Jesus Fucking Christ, I am so ashamed that this happened in even one room. God. Fucking mold. Fucking hoarders shit.
I want to yell at Tim and tell him it's his fault (and yeah, it's entirely his hoard, but he's so ashamed and stressed right now, and I feel like hoarding mentality requires therapy rather than me yelling at him, and we are *definitely* going to talk about getting some therapy). And I feel like it's my fault for not making him clean the room out sooner (even though I know I can't force him to do anything, but it's easier to blame myself).
It'll all work out and be fine in the end, but I'm so ashamed and frustrated and angry right now.