Oh lord, I think I smell the “dead rat rotting on top of my built in dishwasher” smell. Again.

Which, in retrospect, was kind of stupid, because all of a sudden had @ replies and DM’s saying “WTF” and “EW WHAT?” and I can’t tell the story in under 140 characters, so…blog post!

Last winter we started suspecting we may have a moose loose in the hoose, so to speak. We heard little noises in the night and eventually started finding poop droppings in cupboards and so forth. Now, before you picture my ghetto kitchen, I have to say I HAVE AN AWESOME KITCHEN.

it’s not actually crooked, I’m simply a crap photographer

And now before you say “BRAG MUCH?” here is the kitchen from the same angle, taken shortly after I bought this place:

I know. You can’t see it, right? Because we knocked down a motherfucking WALL. Here is it from another angle:

So I am kind of proud and defensive of my formerly ghetto kitchen.

Where was I?

Oh right poop droppings.

We set traps but the little bastard(s) eluded us. We’d hear the traps SNAP in the night and in the morning we’d cautiously peer into cabinets preparing to see dismembered mice, yet we’d find only empty mousetraps and more poop droppings.

We left the traps set and plugged up holes in the radiators. The poop disappeared and we went about our lives, as you do.

Some weeks later, I started noticing The Smell. I couldn’t identify The Smell other than something smelled *off*. I drove myself nuts, seeking out the source of The Smell – opening cabinets, pulling out the fridge and sniff, sniff, sniffing. Oddly, The Smell seemed strongest when we ran the dishwasher.

(You may see where this is going, I did not).

My best guess, at the time, was that The Smell was due to a leak in the dishwasher hose or pipe or whatever the hell is back there, rotting out the drywall and possibly my floors. I was concerned if the wall was damaged, I could be on the hook for a repair bill for the strata property.

The Smell was getting worse. Much worse.

One day, immediately after Andrew left for work (naturally), I decided to pull out the dishwasher and see if dampness, wall or floor rot lurked in the space behind it.

I pulled out the screws holding the dishwasher to the underside of the counter and slowly pulled the it out of place. I had it about six inches out when I saw it.

IT. WAS. FURRY.

IT.WAS. BLOODY.

IT. WAS. DEAD.

IT. WAS. A. RAT.

I did what any calm, rational, adult woman would do in the situation. I screamed and ran behind the counter and texted Andrew:

DEAD FUCKING RAT DEAD FUCKING RAT OMG DEAD FUCKING RAT

To which he replied something like “Ew. What are you going to do?”

(Freak the fuck out, is what I’m going to do! The hell?)

My next move was to send the same text to my fearless best friend, who immediately said she was on her way. She arrived, pulled the dishwasher all the way out, gagged, wrapped the dead body up in dishwasher insulation and tossed it in the dumpster. I remained on the other side of the apartment, trying not to heave.

The Smell, you see, was the body of the dead rat, rotting, inches below my countertop. Rotting more quickly every time we ran the nice hot dishwasher and nice hot dry cycle.

The Smell was Dead Rotting Rat, Slow Cooker Style.

As it happens, I think my Twitter panic earlier tonight was premature. Sometimes simply the smell of the dishwasher triggers my PTSD, as you may well imagine.

Kitchen

Living room

Dining room

Living room/dining room

Den

Bathroom

Bedroom

Ta da!

All pictures here.

I can’t close the closet door in the bedroom because it’s off it’s track and I want a proper bed frame (you know, with a headboard…) and so I haven’t put the bedskirt on because I hate it and so you can see the ugly box spring and well, let’s be honest – I just don’t tend to make the bed. Why make the top half look nice when the bottom half looks ghetto?

Yes, living half-unpacked makes me tend to be a bit on the sloppy side…when you just don’t have a place for your stuff it just kinda goes…here, for now. There, occasionally.

But. OK. I’ll show you. The TA DAAAA! moment will still come. And I will try to tidy up for it.

Click on the pictures to see notes explaining the chaos.

It looks great but it will look amazing soon.

Monday, the floors went in, and I licked them. Gorgeous…love love love them.

This week we have been buying and painting and installing baseboards, casings and doors. Oh and painting. God.

Sorry for the weak update but I’m pooped out – been at the condo until 9 or 10 every night this week.

No pictures at the moment – soon, I promise!

In other news:

• the walls are mudded – once they are dry I can paint (yay! and ugh!);
• the appliances will be delivered in under a week;
• the floors will be installed in just over a week; and
• the rat is dead! yipee!!!!

hood fan ~ saved $2000 (seriously)

undermount sink ~ saved $300


kitchen tap ~ saved $100



shower and bath tabs ~ saved $200

towel rack & tp holder ~ saved $45 (to be honest I only bought these because it was from the same seller on ebay and didn’t have to pay shipping. but still! the tp holder was like $3!)

You know what’s the best? When you are working with it all day, a real hot summer day, and you’re dressed in your oldest, most stained tank top and pants from when you were 15lbs heavier (’cause you’re not gonna wear your good clothes around that shit) and your hair gets caked with sweat and gyproc dust and you might even have bruises on your arms from all the old gyproc hauling around you’ve been doing and you decide you have to go to 7-11 for a slurpee NOW and the clerk looks at you like “ew” and you think “what? fuck off” and then you get back in your car and look at yourself in the mirror and not only are you sweaty and greasy and red-faced and wearing stained clothes that are hanging off you, but every.single.nose.hair is covered in fine white dust and holy crap, did you know you even HAD that many nose hairs? That didn’t happen to me at all this weekend.

Kitchen news! We have received the plan and it looks awesome. I have pictures. Pictures that suck, because have I told you I HATE MY CAMERA? I hate my camera. If I turn the flash off it won’t focus. Hate it.

back wall

looking into living room

* there are no individual water shut off valve thingys (sorry for the technical terms) in the condo, which means I have to seek approval from Strata to turn off the water to a couple of suites for a couple of hours. No big deal right? Wrong.