Venting.

If cleanliness is next to godliness, then I live with the spawns of Satan.

I got back today after a (beautiful) weekend with my family. I'll readily admit that my parents' house is not recognized as the spic-n-span house on the block (sorry mom, I know you read this), but it doesn't usually reek of rotting.

That was my "Welcome Back to Logan" scent tonight.

Well, instead of flipping out (as is my nature), I calmly took out the garbage in hopes that the smell would leave. I arranged my flowers and put away my food before walking past the sink. There it was. The smell. Someone had left rotting dishes in the sink for (at least) the past six days. Once again, I remained calm, as I turned on the water and started washing all of the disgusting dishes. After 25 minutes, I could finally breathe again, and it took another 15 minutes before the kitchen was completely clean.

Now, I'm not trying to prove that I'm the best roommate on the block. I can be bratty and snarky and a bit of a pain. But, I DO MY OWN DISHES. I don't expect other people to clean up after me, and I certainly don't allow myself to live in squalor out of sheer laziness. These people don't understand how to keep a house, let alone how to be a respectful roommate.

So, tomorrow we're gonna have a little "Come to Jesus" talk. They will know that the smell of rotten Spaghetti-Os is enough to make someone gag, and they'll know that the next time they leave dishes in the sink for over three days that they'll end up in the dumpster. I don't care if I end up in the hall-of-fame for the meanest roommate ever, at least my picture will be up in the cleanest roommate hall-of-fame as well.