In less than a month, Hubster will graduate and shortly after that, his graduate assistantship will come to an end and we will need to move out of our campus apartment. We don’t know exactly when we’re moving yet; mostly because we don’t know where we’re headed next. Yet, I think I’ve already begun to mentally check out of this place.
For a year and a half, I have wracked my brain wondering why my apartment randomly smells like poop sometimes. It would be easy now to blame it on C, but he’s only been around for nearly nine months.
Every time it happens, I walk around my apartment sniffing everything like a bloodhound. The garbage can, the diaper genie, the bathroom, the sink, the refrigerator. I probably look pretty crazy. But how the heck does the smell of poo infiltrate our humble abode? It’s an unsettling problem to have.