It stinks.

Know what stinks? {Other than the fact I still can't walk? I have updates on that front, too, but wasn't in the mood to get into my lame life today. Get it? Lame? Because I only have one good...yeah. Anyway.}

My house.

Tuesday it was so nice outside that I opened all of my windows. The rents came over to make me dinner and halfway through eating our grilled halibut my dad started sniffing the air. "Do you smell that?" It stank. Like burning hair. Dad followed his nose to the backyard and came back to report, "Don't worry. It's just burned fish skin."

Great. Thanks. Burned fish skin.

Yesterday when I got home from work I picked up a bottle in the sink that had some bleach in it to try to get this gross moldy stuff out of the bottom. Only the top of the bottle wasn't screwed on and when I picked it up, the bottom fell into the sink and splattered bleach water all over me, my dress, the wall, sink, colander, counter...the list goes on and on. At least that got rid of the burned fish skin smell.

Then, last night it was once again drop dead gorgeous so I opened the windows. My roommate/brother went out back to the patio and the next thing I knew the entire house smelled like cigar smoke. Not an awful smell until it starts seeping into your couch and linens and...

Yeah. Not cool.

So, I lit some girlie candles {shut the windows} and called it a day.