I haven’t been blogging much lately and I was going to apologize but have to admit that it annoys me a bit when bloggers apologize for an absence, as if the world wouldn’t spin without them spewing their words of wisdom among its inhabitants. So I won’t do that.
But I have been busy lately, and so while I aspire to write some interesting work-related stuff, that will take too long. Anyway, what I have to write about is disturbing the heck out of me and frankly, the stink is a little distracting.
Yesterday, I had an epic cleaning day. The kind where all your laundry is done, sheets changed, rugs and dog toys washed, furniture dusted, floor mopped and vacuumed, refrigerator cleaned and wiped out, et cetera, ad nauseum (hee! seriously, the refrigerator stuff makes me a little nauseous). I just do this every once in a while…can’t help it. It’s my meager little version of being master of all I survey. So what if all I survey happens to exist within the walls of my house?
So the garbage is out on the curb and my kitchen is cleaner than I ever remember it being. Like shiny-clean. And I smell garbage stink. I stuck my head under the sink, moved around some bottles and there’s nothing. I sniff-sniff-sniff. It’s not the garbage disposal. It’s not the refrigerator. It’s not the fruit bowl. It’s not in the oven. Opening cabinets, sniffing. Opening drawers, sniffing. Moving stuff around, looking under it. Sniff.
Did I ever tell you that I smell everything? It’s instinctual. I smelled the sports ball at the gym today. It smelled like frosting (well, I already knew that before I smelled it, just so you don’t think I am crazy/gross). I just think that smell is the strongest of my senses.
So I assume that it is with some irony that I am being haunted by a phantom stink in and around the kitchen. I’m going to light a candle. And invite a friend over to confirm that it exists and I’m not just smelling things.