"does something smell like fish?"
was the question our friends Zach and Patrick asked as they came over last night, handed us over some re-gifted brownies (only to have the girls who gave them to them show up like 2 minutes later while Kels was in mid-bite... awkward? haha)
We all started smelling the kitchen. Yes, it did indeed, smell like fish. We began the search. High low, in apron pockets, in back pockets, no fish! We looked at our two friends and accused them, too. We'd played a harmless little prank earlier in the day, and, well, we feared a fish might be their retaliation.
Ding-dong. The home teachers came over. Jordan and I talked with our home teachers while Sam and Kelsey did more sniff search. Side note: my home teacher went to Spain on his mission. I almost had a heart attack of happiness and that is no lie.
Anyhow, they left, our other friends came back (it is a constant stream on people in this apartment) and we demanded they tell us where they hid the fish. They swore they hadn't done anything to our apt, but the smell was still there, and stronger than ever.
We smelled everything, and then pinpointed the smell to the pantry, and the moment of truth came when I opened up my door and was greeted by a black liquid dripping off my shelves. All the way down. I glanced to the source... my potatoes from Idahome were rotting nicely on the top shelf, bathing in a blackish fluid I wish to never smell again, nor do I wish it upon anyone else.
We did a lot of squealing and yelling and "don't touch it!!"ing and finally worked up the bravery to dispose of the bag of lovely reds. I then used a day's worth of Clorox wipes to clean up the black puddles I had on every shelf, and then it was back to anatomy, youtube videos, and no more fishiness. Let me tell you though... this crisis was definitely no small potatoes. ha. ha. laugh.