Dear Strange Smell in the Kitchen -

Okay, frankly, I think I have tolerated you long enough. I think I have narrowed your source down to a remote location but, seriously, what is with you lurking and lingering and spreading throughout the apartment? 

Don’t get me wrong: it’s not like I don’t clean the kitchen. I left some pots from dinner sitting out for a day, since I had done a load and a half of dishes and was done dealing with them for the day. Plus, I was working the next day. I think it’s a perfectly valid excuse as to leaving them out for the day.

Strange Smell in the Kitchen, however, you thrived. Before, you were only a Slightly Not-Right Smell when one opened the fridge. I’ve looked, and think I know the source, however, am procrastinating on throwing it out since whenever I think to do it the weather outside is pouring. 

Sure, reader, point fingers at me that the smell is my own fault. But, again, it’s not like I let the kitchen get really nasty! Plus, we’ve been quite busy trying to get settled and furniture set up before we unload the rest of our boxes. You’d think, Strange Smell in the Kitchen, you’d cut us a little slack in the matter. What more do you want, Strange Smell? A back massage? Daily rubbing with bleach? I regret to inform you, Strange Smell, that the smell of bleach makes me gag and potentially throw up. But then again, I think you would actually enjoy having the added aroma to your boquet of disgusting.

I’m sure you really enjoyed it yesterday when I cleaned those pots. Oh, how I gagged at the smell! Oh, how I yelled my anguish as the stench assaulted my nose! I seriously think, Strange Smell, that you probably added some sort of smell element to the pot just to be a dick. 

How does it feel, Strange Smell, that I bought a scented candle yesterday? Does it anger you when the kitchen smells of pumpkin pie and cinnamon? That I burn it after meals now so that the aroma of dinner will not join your aromafest of destruction? How mad you must have been, Strange Smell, when I got an Air-Wick plug-in for the wall. I’m sure you settled in for the night silently cursing me hoping the cats would kill me while I sleep for their issues with me.

Frankly, Strange Smell in the Kitchen, I want you out. I thought perhaps I could ignore you, allow us to live with each other in peace. Frankly, you’ve overstayed your welcome. It’s bad enough the cats smelled like litter box but now, honestly, I want you out. 

Or to pay your part of the rent. 

Whichever, honestly, happens first.

Not much in the way of love,

Anne