My office smells like gingerbread, burnt things, and poop

"Do you smell something?" my office mate M asked me Tuesday when I was preparing for class.
"Nope, but I just came in and it's cold out. Give my nose a minute to thaw," I responded. I'm usually pretty sensitive to smell. I waited and worked.
About a half hour later, I left on an errand. When I got back to the office, I smelled it. Not strong but bad.
"Remember yesterday how I told you it smelled like poop over in the hallway?" M asked. I said I did. "I think someone tracked it in here" he explained. He then took me on a tour of the stains of the carpet.
I was doubtful that any of them were the source of a new smell as they all seemed somewhat familiar to me. Although who would know a new stain on that carpet?

"They're brown..." M said ominously, gesturing to a set of stains. We discussed the possibility that someone had walked into the room, was able to stand so close as to leave this stain by the door, then went over and stood by my desk, near the garbage can, and then settled with their feet stuck way under M's desk. We acted out various walking in and tracking poop scenarios, none of which seemed likely.

I left for class promising to bring in something to help with the smell. I had just the thing. My good friend cjblue had just visited me this weekend. She got her annual birthday mix CD (Funtastik mix - "with bagpipe action") and I got some very excellent gingerbread scented cleaning supplies. Only a friend who knows me as well as she does would understand that very cool scented cleaning supplies are not at all an odd present for me.

This morning I had to be on campus much later than I should ever be. I had to be in for a 9 AM meeting, which is about 2 hours earlier than I ever get onto campus even when I'm up early and moving fast. The morning is extremely unkind to my body*. Despite feeling like hell thawed out, I managed to get out and going with everything I needed, including my gingerbread scented heavy duty cleaning liquid tucked into my bag. I got in after the meeting and promptly dabbed cleaner onto the carpet (yep, I keep cleaning rags in my office).

"Oh that smells NICE!" M said as we cleaned. We made sure to hit all the stains he worried were the source of the stink. We turned off the fluorescent overhead lights and switched on the incandescent lamps. It felt cozy and nice in there until about 2:40.

At 2:30, my stomach had relented in its super bad cramping enough for me to consider putting food in it. I chose popcorn because it seemed to be the least offensive and immediate option. I remember as I put it in the microwave, I checked to see how long to put it in. I had a small conversation with M and the somewhat intimidated undergrad RA about it. "I have this habit of burning popcorn. The first time I met my mother's biological sister I burned it. It was embarassing, I was like 12 and the only one home when she got there...." I blathered on and in the popcorn went, set on "Popcorn" level. One minute into the cooking, I said "Shit, do you smell that?" My phone rang. It was A asking how I was feeling. "Um, better but I'm burning down my lab right now...can I call you back sweetie?"

I looked at the popcorn. The bag was just starting to puff up, not overcooked. "No really, it smells like wood burning." I decided it had to be the popcorn and stopped it. The bag was black in places and smoldering when I opened the oven. I immediately closed it, not wanting to set off the fire alarm. We emptied the trash can, poured whatever water we could find into it, and threw in the still smoldering and increasingly burnt looking bag. I stomped on it to sink it into the water. Finally it went out. But it still smelled like burning.

After M and I took the bag with burnt popcorn bag water in it out of the can and threw it away outside the building (dripping foul smelling burnt popcorn bag water all the way), we returned to the lab. I put the trash bag I had thrown onto the floor back into the can. While leaning down to do this, I was hit with the stink.
"Woah, it smells horrible!" I said.
"Yeah...you know, I smell the poop again!" M said.

We realized the trash can had been the source of the "poop smell" M had noticed. The trash can I had stepped in to put out the burning bag of popcorn. We emptied it of trash and poured in some gingerbread cleaner. And we waited.

At 4:30, when the fluorescent lights were back on, I was on my way out, and the undergrad was flirting with her boss - my recently engaged (and not to her) friend, we were still waiting.

I will reread this blog entry the next time I'm feeling even a little bit guilty about my preference for working at home.


*You can assume this is whiney overly sensitive bullshit, and if you do, keep it to yourself because I don't want to hear it. It's an unpleasant fact of my life and not some indulgent whim.