Sunday, September 9, 2012
Thanks to the rotten potatoes for taking the trash out, mopping my bathrooms, cleaning my kitchen, and making me take a shower
A few days ago I smelled a smell in my kitchen. I was pretty sure it had to be in the trash can, so I took the trash out. I could still smell it, so I also took the recycling out. Then since the smell was still there I decided I'd better scrub both the trash & recycling cans. Guess what. My kitchen still reeked. Like something had died.
Next, I wondered maybe something had spilled on the floor under the trash, so I swept and mopped the kitchen, which led to me sweeping and mopping the entryway and the bathrooms. Since that didn't work I washed the dishes and used a special cleaner in my garbage disposal, because probably there was just something stinky in the sink somewhere. Well, then it was really late and I decided to go to bed. I wasn't sure if I could smell the smell anymore or not.
In the morning I was pretty sure I could still smell it, but I still thought it came from the vicinity of the trash. I was baffled. I started to wonder if maybe it wasn't the kitchen after all. It could be ME. So I showered. Luckily that didn't get rid of the stink.
Then I did other stuff because I have things to do and can't stand around all day in my kitchen, just wondering what smells are. Later that night I set the trash cans in the garage, for an experiment. My kitchen was still unpleasant.
My next train of thought was that there was maybe a dead animal somewhere. So I did nothing because I did NOT want to be the one to find a dead rat in the kitchen. That might cause me to pass out and then who would care for the children. So I had David look around when he came home (he of course hadn't even noticed the smell). He looked in the cupboards and in the vent. Then he found it. The bag of rotten potatoes. No, two bags of rotten baby potatoes that I had on hand to make delicious Crash Hot Potatoes for my family. No crash hot potatoes for us, but at least my trash cans are clean. And my garbage disposal. And my floors (all of them). And me.
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I'm a needy person, I only write if someone will read.