Apartment Of Eternal Stench
I had been in the new apartment long enough to put down my stuff , hang my plant on the balcony, and sleep. Then I had to blast off for wherever it was I just went. Now I've been here for a day, and I have noticed several things, foremost of which is the foremost thing.
The first time I ran the dishwasher, the disposal unit started coughing up wet cigarrette butts. That, along with the random burn marks in the place (as if some moron went around snuffing out cigarrettes on counters, in the sink, in the toilet bowl, on the walls, blinds, and showerhead), led me to surmise that a smoker lived here before me. How I always always end up on the inconsiderate side of a smoker is beyond me. And what I think happened is that they people who cleaned the apartment just used three times the amount of carpet cleaning chemical in a didn't-work-at-all effort to cover the smoke smell, instead of doing the right thing, which is of course to tear up the carpet, roll the smoker up in the carpet, and burn them both. So now it smells like a meth lab and a college bar in my new apartment. I've had the windows open since I've been home, and now it's getting to be a vague stink that mounts concentrated attacks randomly, like there's a ghost made of nicotine that I sometimes walk through.
I'll tell you more about the place when maintenance drops by and makes it worth talking about.