There are times when you hit happy hour after work (and those times are brilliant fun) and then you come home to your cranky pet fish and thirsty avocado trees and realize that your apartment smells a bit...off. And then you realize that off smell is coming from your kitchen.
You (this note has apparently turned into a second-person point of view story) walk cautiously towards your sink knowing that it really has been a few days since the last round of doing dishes. And your sink smells like "Death At the Docks (with capital 'D's)."
And you vaguely remember making tuna fish sandwiches one night around 2:00 am when it sounded like a very good idea, but you also remember that tuna fish juice is gross and you used a lot of water to rinse away any stinkyness.
And so you start to do dishes, because this seems to be one of your annoying habits that you do after several happy-hour margaritas, never mind that you often drop something made of glass and get cranky with yourself the next day.
As you wash plates and cups and cutlery, you begin to feel smug since it's not so bad. Yes, there is a vague scent of the Docks (capital D) in the air, but it's being scrubbed away with each swipe of the washcloth. Until. Until. Until.
Until you put the bowls in the water. Phew! And you wash a few that are fine. And then...you pull out a bowl from under the sudsy water. It's like sniffing a dolphin. You make a face, throw the bowl back in the sink, and turn on your computer. Because when you are buzzed enough to make analogies that say anything was "like sniffing a dolphin" you know you should be writing that down instead of washing dishes. Even if one of them is evil-stinky and soaking in sudsy water.
Man, it is the day-to-day grind that makes for small, stinky adventures.
Moral of today's story: tuna fish is wicked dangerous.
An Erinku:
I know, I know
I should
be practicing!
But, I'm dealing with evil
stinky-dolphin-bowl
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