Friday, October 22, 2004

I hate the smell of ashes in the morning.

My mom forgot she left a pot on the stove when we went out last night, and we came home to find the place filled with a thin haze of smoke. Now the entire house smells like a cross between a campfire and a chain smoker’s mouth. We’ve been leaving all the windows and doors open to air the place out, but that’s not so fun with the fifty-degree weather blowing in.

Why couldn’t mother have burned those beans in May? It sucks having to choose between a funky house and a freezing house. And airing out the place isn’t even working, so we end up with both.

I’ve had enough of wearing a coat in my own home, especially when exposing it to the stink results in it soaking in all the stench. It’s even in my hair, which currently smells like I washed it in fireplace soot.

Right now, I think I’m going to head off to Target for twenty bucks worth of Oust and Plug-ins. I need to defunkify this place before the odor settles into the carpet and becomes a permanent resident.