A cartoon depiction of the author, wearing a hoodie and smiling motd.co

there is a certain quality to which having a room in your house where the floor and each wall is covered in plastic sheeting, and when you go inside of it you experience a sort of sensory overload, makes you think that you are maybe the antihero in a post-"American Psycho" A24 horror movie1

  1. The house I just moved into is 96 years old. At the back of the house is a weird addition, a former patio-turned former screened-in porch-turned "sunroom". Shortly after moving in we discovered water damage in the ceiling of this room, and the mold mitigation specialists are running a large dehumidifier and "air movers" pointed at the ceiling in this room, with plastic sheeting used to contain the hot air from escaping to the rest of the house. The room, however, is in the path of me taking my dog to the backyard or reaching my "office", so I have had to travel through it in this configuration a dozen + times a day for the past 4 days. The plastic sheeting reminds me of the infamous axe murder scene from the movie "American Psycho". The implications of this as they are projected upon my general class consciousness are overwhelming.