The following post is brought to you in part by NaBloWriMo. October is National Blog Writing Month or so a group of us have decided. I’ve joined and committed to writing at last one useful and good post a day this month. Join at the link here. This concludes this public service announcement.
There was something foul in the air tonight. No, it wasn’t the massive air pollution that’s going to kill us all although if we’re to believe some reports out there there’s nothing we can do about the rising oceans so kiss your sweep bippy good bye.
Eek. A little off track and only one paragraph in. Refocus in 3, 2, 1…
I waltzed (more like stumbled after the confounded door didn’t open like I wanted it to) into my apartment and found my nostrils assaulted with a insidious affront wafting over my sniffer. In short, I smelled something amiss. I quickly checked the apartment for the Evil Drifter That Seems Cool When You Buy Him Lunch Until He Shows Up At Your Place With A Evil Grin On His Face guy and found none. The foul stench was pretty strong. I started looking for the demons, leprechauns and other little weevily things. I heard no tittering of laughter or red eyes glaring out from behind the corners.
After dousing the place in Holy Water and hiring out a helpful priest (I love it when they say, “THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!) with a mixture of shamans, witch doctors and Benny Hinn I found the smell still lingering and almost increasing. It was if I had poked and prodded the once sleeping giant and brought about Armageddon. Thinking about it now it might have been the Benny Hinn appearance that set off the Smelly Occupier.
To say I needed help was an understatement. I called the Ghostbusters but they’re movies are done and they’ve moved on to crashing golf carts in foreign cities and teasing us fanboys with bits of news about a return making Bustin’ Feeling Good once again. Mulder and Scully were off somewhere playing hookie.
I wondered if perhaps an animal had died somewhere in my apartment. The smell was of Rubber Cement and I was trying to remember if I had left one open (don’t ask why I have Rubber Cement just hanging around open) or perhaps in a fit of inspiration taken a bottle and spread it all over the walls ala Pollock before leaving for work this morning.
Spending hours searching high and low for a smell is something people get paid money to do in their spare time. Market research on smells and sounds puts bread on peoples tables. The only other group that uses their noses so effectively is mothers. Myself being neither a certified noser nor a mother I was resigned to pace around sniffing like there was white stuff piled six feet high.
It was an odd moment when I realized if my neighbors could hear me now there might have been a very concerned looking police officer at my door. Is there such a thing as excessive sniffing?
I never found the offending odor and had to go pick up a candle. It was a sight to see. Me and my blue scented candle of “Sweet Lilac” (and it is pretty sweet to be honest…yea I know I’m losing man cards in spades today) standing in line at Safeway with a sandwhich in the other hand just staring forward and not wanting to see what kind of looks I was getting.
The smell is still hanging around in the corners and drifts in and out a little every so often. I’m thinking I might need to go straight to either a chainsaw, wood axe or baseball bat.
Because as cool as it apparently was back in the day to sniff rubber cement it’s getting pretty darned annoying. That and I’m worried I’m really smelling gas that smells differently and the burning candle that sits on my tv is just a ticker waiting for the right concentration of gas to go ‘sploding all over me.
