75. Onions
My kitchen is in disarray right now - a few weeks ago, the kindergarten folks went on an excursion to gather onions for a big curry party. There were a lot of leftovers, and I ended up with a bag full of onions.
This past Friday, when I opened up the door on the bottom shelf of my tall cabinet to get some tissues, the smell hit me. There was also some kind of black liquid in the plastic bag. Ick. I quickly closed the door and lived with the faint, escaping smell for the rest of the weekend. Since today was burnables day, I finally got to throw it out this morning.
This evening I figured I could open the door a bit and open my apartment door and window too, and let it air out.
Nope.
And let me tell you, there’s no experience like getting your rice cooker going while you’ve got that special smell in your nose and those tears in your eyes that can only come from the recent presence of rotten onions. I had to take everything off of the cabinet and haul it out onto my balcony and lay it down there with the door open. (Let’s hope the smell is barely noticeable after a while; I don’t want to bother my neighbours with it.)
The funny thing to me now is, people are popping by my wide-open door (asking me what time we’re starting, asking to borrow my bike) and seeing my microwave and toaster oven and a whole whack of things on my kitchen floor and they're not saying anything! I guess people are accustomed to me having proclivities.
I thought I had a while with those onions before I had to do anything, though. It must have been the high heat and humidity that turned them.
Well, it’s off to M’s potluck! It’s his birthday today.
This past Friday, when I opened up the door on the bottom shelf of my tall cabinet to get some tissues, the smell hit me. There was also some kind of black liquid in the plastic bag. Ick. I quickly closed the door and lived with the faint, escaping smell for the rest of the weekend. Since today was burnables day, I finally got to throw it out this morning.
This evening I figured I could open the door a bit and open my apartment door and window too, and let it air out.
Nope.
And let me tell you, there’s no experience like getting your rice cooker going while you’ve got that special smell in your nose and those tears in your eyes that can only come from the recent presence of rotten onions. I had to take everything off of the cabinet and haul it out onto my balcony and lay it down there with the door open. (Let’s hope the smell is barely noticeable after a while; I don’t want to bother my neighbours with it.)
The funny thing to me now is, people are popping by my wide-open door (asking me what time we’re starting, asking to borrow my bike) and seeing my microwave and toaster oven and a whole whack of things on my kitchen floor and they're not saying anything! I guess people are accustomed to me having proclivities.
I thought I had a while with those onions before I had to do anything, though. It must have been the high heat and humidity that turned them.
Well, it’s off to M’s potluck! It’s his birthday today.