Rotten Oranges Smell Like Brain Tumors.

Last Monday, I got home from work and opened the back door to let the puppies go make their pees and poops, like I always do. While standing there at the back door, I got a whiff of what I first thought was WD-40, or some kind of lubricant spray. I figured hell, Ish must’ve sprayed some shit in the doorknob since my key always gets stuck. He’s handy like that sometimes, no big deal. I walked away from it and forgot about it.

Tuesday, I come home and smell the same thing. I think, “damn that shit still fuckin’ stinks”. I message Ish and ask him, “Did you spray WD-40 or some crazy shit in my doorknob recently?” He says, “No, why would I have done that?” I’m guessing he’s never had a doorknob get all janky on the inside before, so I explain to him why he would have done that. He says, “Nope, must have been that other dude that you let come over during the week.” And then I threatened his life, walked away from it and forgot about it again.

Wednesday, now the shit is starting to really bug me. I open the cabinets that are above the washer and dryer, directly behind the back door. I didn’t look thoroughly but I took a decent gander. I see nothing that would smell like what I smelled. Spray paint? Maybe. Bug killer? Maybe. But nothing appears to have fallen over, sprayed or spilled. I’m perturbed, but I shrug it off again and leave it be.

Thursday, at this point - I’m convinced that I have a damn brain tumor. I’m smelling shit for no reason; this is where it all fuckin’ ends. I tell my mother all about it on the phone, she tells me that it’s not a brain tumor. I hear what she’s saying, but I’m not convinced. I fuckin’ smell something that isn’t there, and that my friends - is a legit symptom! I just turned 38 and now I’m dying, and to make matters worse, for the rest of what life I have left I’m going to have to continuously smell permanent marker, or whatever the fuck!

Friday, I come home to clean the house like I do every Friday evening. I pour myself a glass of wine and promptly remove all the shit from the cabinets behind the back door. There’s nothing. The smell isn’t coming from the cabinets, even though there is literally NO where else for the smell to be coming from. None of this shit makes sense. I’m defeated.

Saturday, Dale and Ish come over to enjoy the early dose of spring like weather with me. I have the windows open in the house, it’s amazing. I ask both of them if they smell something chemical-like by the back door, they don’t. I’m frustrated by that but fuck it, it was a beautiful day.

Sunday, I’m lying on the couch. The ceiling fans are still on from the wonderful weather and open windows on Saturday. I’m finishing up laundry in between episodes of Trailer Park Boys, enjoying my Sunday the best way I know how. And fuck if I don’t start catching whiffs of the shit in the living room! Son of a bitch, now it’s getting worse!

I google strange smells in the house. ACETONE. That’s exactly what it is! Fuckin’ ACETONE!

I google why I smell acetone in my house. Most of what I see doesn’t make sense. I don’t have gas appliances. No mold that I know of....and then I read “HVAC, freon leak.”

Okay, I do have central air...so maybe that’s it. But why is it by the back door and not where the furnace/ac shit is? I walk over to the furnace and smell in there. Not it. I get down on the floor and smell the vents. Not it. I even cram my head back behind the refrigerator as far as it will go and sniff back there. Not it.

I message Ish and tell him I think I have a freon leak. He asks Uncle Ronnie if that was feasible, Uncle Ronnie says no - that didn’t make sense. But now, I’m afraid I’m going to spontaneously combust. I’m afraid to light a candle. I’m afraid to leave my puppies in there without ventilation.

I have anxiety - I mentally visualize the haberdashery exploding all three of us into oblivion.

I’m also half-ass hypochondriac - suddenly the smell is making me dizzy and giving me a headache.

Yesterday, I get home, and I’m just beat down by this smell at the back door. I silently hope that whatever it is just goes the fuck away. Fixes itself. Whatever. I have no clue what else to do, except live with it. Brain tumor, chemical poison, combustible fumes....whatever the fuck it is.

Fast forward to today - to just now. I open my drawer at work to get something out of my purse. My purse now smells like fingernail polish remover. So I think, wait a minute! Did I spill something on my purse? Is there something in my purse? My purse totally sits on the dryer behind the back door when I’m home. OR! Has it just gotten so bad that my purse has started to absorb the smell? I can’t live like this; I can’t walk around smelling like this.

Aaaaaaaaand then it hits me: my lunchbox sits there too. On the dryer, behind the back door. I haven’t used said lunchbox in over two weeks. The last time I used it, I most definitely took an orange to work with me, an orange that I did not eat. So, for almost three weeks now, there has been an orange, sitting on my dryer, behind the back door, zipped up inside my lunchbox, getting warm over and over and over again as the laundry loads go idly by....

Any of y’all wanna take a stab at what rotten citrus smells like?

I NEED A FOSTER HOME.