All I could ask today when I got to work was "WHAT IS THAT SMELL?!?!" There were several specific zones o' funk, one of which was the main atrium of the building, and I suspect that particular fragrance was ode de rotting rodent. I can't be sure, can't say as I'd know that smell, but it's what I imagine a dead mouse or rat would smell like. Nothing I sprayed got rid of it, nor made any impact on it for that matter.

In my wing of the building, we have the usual whiffs of dung, spoiling food, pee stains on the carpet, and they were all strong and present this morning.

As I headed down my hallway I came to uncomfortable determination that there was a horrible new funky smell which seemed to be emanating from my office, its source betrayed by the wisps of green air escaping from under the closed door jam. It's not a great way to begin a Monday morning, gripping the doorknob with one hand and holding your nose with the other, but a gal has to get into her office, and being such a gal, I forged on to face whatever it was I had to face...er...smell

Bloody hell.

The tank of doom.

Oh the carnage. Finnage? Gillage? Whatever, what a stench! Froth at the top, half decomposed carcass stuck to the filter, what flesh remained speckled in a dazzling case of ick. PH above 8, ammonia levels toxic, the water testing strip measured the water's overall quality as between "severely stressed" and "death." Um. Closer to death, I'm afraid.

Since putting my aquarium in my office and styling it out with the complete line of Sponge Bob decor, I have become the kiss of death to all finned inhabitants of my tank of doom. I don't bother with the fancy, expensive, fish anymore. The gouramies and the sharks bit the algae a long time ago. After losing an ocean's worth of guppies and angelfish and assorted types of tetras and ciclyds, I decided this last time to go smart. Get something hearty. Goldfish! I mean, they're CARP for Christ sake. Freaking carp. Who can accidentally kill carp?

Me. Apparently I am quite skilled at it, for they lasted, oh, approximately 3 days.

It gets worse. Oh yeah. Not only can I not keep even 1 out of 4 lousy goldfish alive for a week, but I also managed to kill the plecostamous. The age-old constant of every tank, the prehistoric staple, a fish that I've been told has survived hundreds of thousands of years. With me, not even 2 months. Thank that's bad? This is the second one I've lost SINCE AUGUST!

God forbid the future be ruled by highly evolved fish, upon whom I depend. I don't wanna get ick.

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