Old people make strange smells. They don’t really seem to come from anywhere in particular, but manage fill the air around you completely. The strange thing is that sometimes I can smell it, even after I’ve gone home and had a shower. It’s like my very own, private version of The Sixth Sense:
I smell old people.
Speaking of smells – There’s another odd smell in my bathroom. Kinda like something died. I’m guessing that there might be algae growing in a pipe somewhere, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. Shouldn’t there be a rule, or something, that smells (especially the stinky ones) should have to come from somewhere. Ideally, they should have some sort of colour, as well. I’d imagine that the bathroom-smell would be a kinda putrid greenish orange. And it would probably look sort of wet and sticky.
Of course, the bathroom-smell is nothing compared to the bedroom-smell from two years ago. It was winter, and a bunch of mice made their way inside. I guess that’s one of the joys of living in a really old house. Anywho, I took someone’s clever advice to use poison. “They’ll eat the poison,” they said. “They’ll crawl outside to die,” they said. Well, they ate the poison, alright. Then they went to meet their maker inside the walls and underneath the floorboard. The smell defied description.
Long story short: I now live in a very old house, with very new floors and walls.
Okay, I’m spending way to much time thinking with my nose here. Time to find something else to do:)