My new apartment stinks

It literally stinks, I mean. Other than the smell, it's absolutely fabulous and I love it. I feel a little bad when people come over because I do have a small sense of guilt in a "sorry you don't live here (but I do! *does a happy dance*)" way.

But then... there's the smell.

The first time I walked into the building, I can't be blamed for imagining a smell, because a dog (or human, who knows) took a big ole dump in the elevator lobby. Am I ever glad that I don't live downtown with a dog. Or a human who likes to take dumps in elevator lobbies.

Then I had the thought - maybe it's just the dog dump factor that's clouding my opinion. So I took advantage of my hyper-olfactory-gland and super duper pregnant friend Kristi and had her over to give the place a sniff test. Here's what she came up with:

Lobby smell: Maxi pads. The scented kind, not the unscented.
Hallway with trash chute: Whiskey and pickle juice.
Elevator: no comment. She had her hand over her nose and mouth and refused to breathe during the ride.

Fortunately, my new apartment is mercifully scent-free. Or at least smells like me. Or maybe I stink, who knows.

In other COMPLETELY UNRELATED NEWS, a "friend" (by friend you realize I mean me, right? K, just checking) sent this text to another COMPLETELY UNRELATED BUT ALSO PREGNANT friend:

Friend via text: I just pooted in the bathroom when someone walked in! Pooted LOUD. Then when I got out of the stall I discovered that it was my supervisor!!! My supervisor heard me poot loud!

Other pregnant friend who is not Kristi via text: I puked in the fire lane in front of Bunny's school this morning.

You'll be glad to know it wasn't during drop off. But the janitor (sweeping said fire lane) was less than pleased, according to non-Kristi.

Lastly, I am a super jumpy person. My father calls it "guilty conscious" and likely he's right. But that doesn't stop the fact that I have to be scraped off the ceiling every now and again when I get taken by surprise. And by every now and again I mean at least three times a day.

New apartment has concrete floors (that are glossy and smooth and silky and pretty and beautiful like a glass or a mirror or a pond!) which after years of hardwoods are mercifully slick and quiet. No creaking! Down side? Poor new roommate sneaks up on me all the time. Not her fault, I can't hear her coming.

So I asked her to wear a bell like a cat would to scare off would-be supper birds before they get pounced upon. That's not weird, right?

She agreed to wear a bell. And she does.

That's not weird. Right?