Thursday, January 17, 2008


So...onions, hey?

Joel and I have been on this 'Giant Salad' kick, where I chop up a bunch of peppers and onions and such, and open a can of chick peas and a can of black beans and a can of corn, and then I make Giant Salads and then throw the rest into tupperware containers in the fridge, so that the next day I can make a Giant Salad in half a second, because I'm waaaaaaaaaay more likely to eat a salad if it doesn't involve half an hour of chopping.

So, about three salads ago, I overdid the red onions. I always think that delicious = put more in but this is not always the case. By the time I was done the salad, I was also done with red onions for a while. You know how it is. So this little tupperware container of red onions sat in our fridge for a few days more, gathering stench like they do.

Monday morning, I opened the fridge door to get my milk, and the onion stench reached out and slapped me in the face. Cheeky bugger. So I dumped out the little container into the trash, but I was running late for school so I couldn't take the trash out to the outside-trash. Whatever.

Except that Joel woke up that morning with the most severe nausea, and when he stumbled out into the kitchen, the whole front of the house reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeked of angry onions. He took the trash to the outside-trash immediately, but that's like killing a mosquito and thinking you've solved West Nile. Mosquitoes have spawn, and onions have scent-spawn.

The tupperware container was in the sink when I came home, so even though all the windows were open and the house was frEEzing, it still reeked. I rinsed the container and put it in the dishwasher, but it was another full day of indominatable stink before the dishwasher filled enough that I could run it. Problem solved?


That was Tuesday night I ran the dishes. It is now Thursday afternoon. This morning, I stuck my face into the dishwasher (for science) and sniffed. Onions.

I put my head under the sink where the trash is and sniffed (again, for science). Onions.

In that whole front room, there is a very faint trace of onion, as though someone stepped in it and is walking around with onion on their shoe. What do I do? Febreeze the hell out of the kitchen? Scrub the living room with stainless steel? Burn it down and buy a new house?

In conclusion, onions are insidious. Beware.

1 comment:

Rebekah said...

ha ha! angry onions. it's so true