p.u.

About two days ago, we started noticing a bad smell coming from the far corner of our bedroom, near the heater.  It was a damp, rancid smell, kind of rotted and earthy, like garbage.  I thought it actually was the garbage, so I took it out.  Still, the smell persisted.

"It smells like a dead muskrat." Joe said.  I thought he was kidding, and continued to search the room for a damp towel that may have dropped behind the bureau and was now setting up its own little fungus factory, or maybe a half of a sandwich that I had stowed in a backpack weeks ago and forgotten. But he wasn't kidding.  While the smell was foul but unidentifiable to my olfactory examination, it was perfectly familiar to Joe, former suburbanite, master of the outdoors.  It was the smell of rotting rodent carcass.  Maybe not muskrat, as was his initial impression, but probably mouse or rat.

There is a dead mouse in our house.

It became rapidly apparent that the epicenter of the miasma was the radiator in the corner of the room.  The smell became stronger as you stepped towards the fixture, and (perhaps most disgustingly of all), also became stronger when you turned the heat on.  Maintenance was called and a search for the tiny carcass ensued, with no luck.  "Probably the little guy is under the floorboards, or even in the wall," the handyman told us.  "Either way, we can't get to it."  Ugh.  "The little guy." Rotting in the wall.  Out of reach.  Stinking up our lives.

"I guess there's really nothing we can do about it now," Joe told me.  "It'll stop stinking in a few days, I guess."  So we're waiting it out.  We've been keeping the windows open.  We burned aromatic candles.  Last night, we slept in the guest room.  I've been curbing my impulse to go out and buy a hundred of those scented Christmas tree things that taxi-drivers hand on their rearview mirrors, and hang them all around the radiator. 

Our house smells like dead rodentia.


xo
Michelle


P.S. If you didn't get a chance to look at the
Halloween pictures
from yesterday, take a look and revel in the lameitude.
Saturday . November 2 . 2002 . 6:22pm
p.u.

About two days ago, we started noticing a bad smell coming from the far corner of our bedroom, near the heater.  It was a damp, rancid smell, kind of rotted and earthy, like garbage.  I thought it actually was the garbage, so I took it out.  Still, the smell persisted.

"It smells like a dead muskrat." Joe said.  I thought he was kidding, and continued to search the room for a damp towel that may have dropped behind the bureau and was now setting up its own little fungus factory, or maybe a half of a sandwich that I had stowed in a backpack weeks ago and forgotten. But he wasn't kidding.  While the smell was foul but unidentifiable to my olfactory examination, it was perfectly familiar to Joe, former suburbanite, master of the outdoors.  It was the smell of rotting rodent carcass.  Maybe not muskrat, as was his initial impression, but probably mouse or rat.

There is a dead mouse in our house.

It became rapidly apparent that the epicenter of the miasma was the radiator in the corner of the room.  The smell became stronger as you stepped towards the fixture, and (perhaps most disgustingly of all), also became stronger when you turned the heat on.  Maintenance was called and a search for the tiny carcass ensued, with no luck.  "Probably the little guy is under the floorboards, or even in the wall," the handyman told us.  "Either way, we can't get to it."  Ugh.  "The little guy." Rotting in the wall.  Out of reach.  Stinking up our lives.

"I guess there's really nothing we can do about it now," Joe told me.  "It'll stop stinking in a few days, I guess."  So we're waiting it out.  We've been keeping the windows open.  We burned aromatic candles.  Last night, we slept in the guest room.  I've been curbing my impulse to go out and buy a hundred of those scented Christmas tree things that taxi-drivers hand on their rearview mirrors, and hang them all around the radiator. 

Our house smells like dead rodentia.


xo
Michelle


P.S. If you didn't get a chance to look at the
Halloween pictures
from yesterday, take a look and revel in the lameitude.