Just when you think it's safe to go back into the kitchen
There has been an odor in the kitchen. My kitchen is tiny, typical of the time in which it was built (1890). Even a small odor can make the room unbearable. I am by nature a lousy housekeeper (sorry, mom), so we pay a cleaning service to come in once a month and do the major cleaning. They were just here, so I was on my own to find and attack the source.
Here's the initial process: none of it succesful.
Take out the garbage.
Run the garbage disposal.
Clean the rabbit litter boxes, even though they're nowhere near the kitchen.
Take out the recycling, just in case there's something gooey in a can.
Remove all washcloths, sponges, and towels from kitchen and throw them dramtically into the laundry machine. Dry them with a sweet-smelling fabric softener.
Wash the counters. Twice.
Check through the boxes of fruit in the back hallway in case of rotting.
Dump the toaster's crumb bin (I was getting desperate).
Run the garbage disposal. Again. With baking soda in it.
Empty the garbage. Again. Spray air-freshener in room.
Clean as much of the refrigerator as I can reach.
Double check all leftovers in the fridge. When in doubt, throw it out.
Take out drawer under the oven. Check behind stove.
Sweep little spaces between counter and stove.
Consider tears, but decline due to lack of useful purpose.
Finally, I gave in. I had reached my limit. I was ready for the big guns. Here goes:
Call husband. Find out -- um, he put a mousetrap under the refrigerator.
Stall. Hope he gets home before I get up the courage to check.
Remember that husband is more squeamish than I am.
Remove refrigerator grate.
Reveal the truth: One. Dead. Mouse. Ew.
Find large pair of plastic gloves, two plastic bags, and go at it.
Hold breath. Double bag said mousie. Dump double-bagged mouse in garbage can. Say a prayer for its soul (not really).
I have reclaimed the kitchen. Vengeance is mine! And so are the cookies. Stumble It!