Baltimore
17 May 2003


The smell is killing me. Seriously, killing me. I do not know what is going on next door, but as bad as it smells in my house I can't possibly imagine being inside the house next door.

It's not just one smell, and it's not just right now. It's a plethora of smells, and it's all the time. Right now, it sort of smells like meat loaf. You know, the big, greasy lump of meat covered in a slimy red substance that you know it ketchup but after having been cooked it looks like some sort of alien plasma. It absolutely reeks. And it's nine o'clock in the morning! Who needs to cook meat loaf at this time of day? It's not natural. Last night it smelled like cigarette smoke, which is really one of the smells I favor. At least it is indentifiable. Sometimes the smell is putrid, like burning rubber. At first I thought that smell was the Resco plant burning trash, but then I Resco plant actually did burn some trash and I thought I might throw up.

Can you call the police for a continuous bad smell? Couldn't that be described as disturbing the peace? Because it certainly is disturbing me. I consider it assault when I wake up in the morning to the smell of old broccoli.

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My roommate is in London this week, on vacation. I'm so jealous. Not that he's in London, but that he's on vacation. I mean, I'd like to go to London, but more than that I'd like to simply have a week at home where I can sleep in, stay up as late as I want, go to a movie in the middle of the day, that kind of thing. My roommate took two weeks off. When he returns from London he is going to the beach for a week. Normally I don't mind that I don't have nearly as much money as him, but when he's running around the world vacationing, I admit it would be nice to have the means to do so myself.

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