A Dream Is Dead

Yesterday afternoon, when I pried myself away from the computer to grab something from the kitchen (imagine that), I immediately smelled something .... smokey. Frightened that I had left the oven on, I searched the kitchen for anything that could cause something to smolder. No burners were on, the oven was off, the microwave was off, the toaster wasn't plugged in - just the dishwasher was finishing its cycle. I stood there stretching my nostrils as wide as I could, tilting my nose upward, trying to detect where the smell could be coming from. The smell was distinct. Woodsy. Hickory. Smoked.

I remembered that right below our suite, a new wings and ribs restaurant was finishing renos and was about to open. The smell was exactly like a smokey, hickory BBQ sauce. There also just happens to be a vent in our kitchen that could plausibly be connected to the downstairs. I imagined that perhaps they were getting their kitchen ready and were starting a process of making vats and vats of rib sauce. I imagined this was just the beginning and that I'd be smelling more of these vats in my future.

I'm ashamed to say that I was not upset by the possibility of living in Wing Manor. I was thrilled. When Patrick came home, the smell had subsided, but I excitedly chatted with him about how good our place was going to constantly smell. Mmmm ... hickory smoked wings and ribs ... Mmmm. It would be like living in a BBQ hug.

Today I learned something new.

If you don't put things away properly in the dishwasher, they can fall to the bottom and be directly exposed to the heating and drying coil of the appliance. Like, say, this wooden spoon that I found in ours this morning: