Thursday

I walked into my room Thursday and was assailed by the stench of death. I could not find the source – it wasn’t the wilting yet not quite decaying flowers, it wasn’t the molding zuccini in the fridge, it wasn’t the trash. I slept with the windows open thinking it must be a lingering smell from a trash bag I removed. For my silly efforts, I have a left arm dotted with mosquito bites – five – and the smell was still there when I awoke. Lessened, but still there.

I get home yesterday and bam! It’s there. The stench of death – now more distinct. Not the sweet stench of death, but acrid. Vegetable, not animal. So, no leetle mouse had died under the fridge, but potatoes had reached their end in the bowl on the counter.

Today, not so bad. The potatoes were removed last night and the air smells more like air and less like death. By tomorrow evening, no death stench will I expect to greet me.