The Smell

Having established I am not the best housekeeper, I have been hesitant to tell you about the smell in my kitchen.

I worked with a woman who had a rat chew through her television cord. It was electrocuted and died under her TV. There were those who sighed about her housekeeping, but she was a perfectly fine housekeeper. These things happen, but people will judge.

So, anyway, there was an unidentified smell in my kitchen. We just couldn’t pinpoint it. We sniffed around. I cleaned out cupboards. Nothing. I would have said it smelled a little like lunch meat. Colin came home from school (which is going just fine so far, thank you for asking) and said, “Why does it smell like ham?”

Well, that was that. I started ripping things apart again and came across a perfectly innocent head of garlic which was a little softer than it should have been. It looked normal. It wasn’t oozing or emitting a green cartoon like cloud of stink, but if you got really close, there it was. Lunch meat. I threw it and waved around the Lysol and lit candles.

I hope that was it. You may never know. I may not admit if it wasn’t.

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