A smell of a different kind

My apartment stinks and I don't know how to fix it.  I clean and vacuum and dust and scrub and bathe and still these putrescent fumes waft their way up my nostrils and strangle my gag reflex.  In my many attempts to kill the haunting smells I’ve began devising theories on their origins.

My trash can looks something like this:

There are two people living in my house.  Two.  A couple.  Not very many.  Astronauts fly to Mars and back before we are able to fill this sucker up.  Perhaps that was a bit detail-oriented of me to say.  I know, shock.

It usually takes us a week and a half or two weeks to fill up our trash can.  By the time it’s full, the food in the bottom of the bag no longer smells like identifiable food.  I’ve washed the can with laundry detergent; I’ve sprayed it with air fresheners.  I’ve tried scented bags.  I’ve taken it out when it’s not quite full because it smelled so bad.  This past week I walked around the house thinking of things to throw away just to fill the bag.

I’m too thrifty to take out half empty bags, although I’m starting to want to more and more.

To add to the smelly garbage, on Thursday I decided it was time to do something with this icky table.  It’s scratched up top and 90’s stained wood just wasn’t conducive to a stylish 2010 living room.

Armed with a three dollar can of spray paint and a drop cloth I descended the stairs from my apartment and set up my studio in the middle of the grass.

The end result was exactly as I had hoped it to be.  Miraculous.

Yet all good things must come with a price and with my new ebony end table came the strong scent of paint.

Oh, I would that my home smelled of something pleasant.  I remember walking into different houses of friends and acquaintances and marveling at the variety of scents, mostly good, which accompanied such estates.  After certain trips and vacations from my childhood home I could catch a certain glimpse of its original scent.  I held onto the hope that my future house would also be a pleasant place in spirit and fragrance.

I look forward to the day when I can walk through the door after work and not be assaulted by garbage and paint fumes.  The question is, when is that day?

BYU update:  I have finally been readmitted and although there were some mix-ups, thanks to my wonderful aunt, I can finally register for fall classes.  I'm so very eager to return that I fear the summer will be far to long.

Thank you Juju for all your help!