I think that it is possible that the trashcan in the kitchen might have died – or something – because that is the only way to explain the horrid odor that has aggressively wafted the several room trip necessary to reach my sensitive schnoz.
Seriously – whatever is happening in the kitchen is totally out of control.
“Why are you in the business of blaming the poor little trashcan – mean Mister Bumpercar?” You may be on the edge of your seat (preferably with your hand up – always lead a question with an upwardly outstretched hand – just to keep things proper) – about to ask – following up quickly – and before I could possibly ever answer with a “What’d it ever do to you anyways – besides lugging all of your nasty – icky garbage around – without you ever even once stopping to give it a ‘Hey there fine job – kiddo!’ – or nothing . . . what kind of inanimate tyrant are you anyways – huh?!”
Well – to answer your first question – while deftly ignoring the second part – I just recently emptied the trashcan of it’s vile contents – and now have to wonder if they were the only things keeping the can from assaulting my air.
Oh well – time to take a shower with the trashcan – I guess.
It is really the only option that I can think of – at this point.