My roommate is apparently super sensitive to the scents “liberated” by cooking.
Now I don’t make things that smell particularly bad by traditional American standards. I’m not cooking chitterlings or kim chee in the kitchen. Things like ground turkey and tomato sauce can set her into a tizzy.
So I try to be calm about it when she storms into the kitchen and turns on the completely useless ventilation fan above the stove that only serves to blow any smoke, steam, or other olfactory “goodness” towards the hallway leading to…of all places…her room.
I’ve chalked it up to differences in personal biochemistry and sensitivities. I’ve probably got a chemically desensitized schnauzz while her nose is likely more discriminating. No biggie. I’ve also anticipated the possibility that turning on the stove fan has a psychologically reassuring impact on her – it shows that I’m considering the potential detrimental impacts that feeding myself might have on her. So, usually, I just turn on the fan.
Well today, I made some liver and onions with pumpkin pasta – an experimental dish to be sure – and somewhat delicious – however it was without a particular, boquet.
I cooked, I ate, I cleaned – leaving a pan with some warm leftovers on the stove to cool while I studied renal pathophysiology.
En route to leaving the apartment she stormed towards the kitchen and in a gnawingly condescending tone asked me to “clean the pans because the oils seep into the pans and then I have to smell your food for the rest of the week.”
Now, two things to know about me.
First, I cannot stand being talked to like I’m a seven year old – probably because that was the only tone my mother used – it doesn’t just push a button – it punches keys like Ornette Coleman…or Art Tatum (yes Mike, subliminal shoutout)…
Second, I hate being asked to do things when I’m already doing something. When people waltz up to me and demand my time for their pet projects while I’m engaged and avidly concentrating (rare due to ADHD) on something, it does tend to drive me up a wall.
The combination was quite aggravating – and imagine that, distracting. It gnawed at my focus – the focus I’ve been trying to hone since the beginning of this new year. I read through the rest of the chapter, while simultaneously agonizing over whether I should just do it immediately, or stand up for myself and do it when I a) wasn’t busy and b) felt like doing it.
The internal deliberation took too long however – she returned, out of breath from her workout and immediately bolted for the showers – like she always does. I couldn’t tell if she was keeping her nose from curling up like she has resorted to doing occasionally, or if the smell wasn’t even there.
It no longer mattered. I realized that I had stuck up for myself by waiting until she had gotten back – and then I also realized that I could be above the almost entirely self-creating melodrama unfolding in my head and I could just wash the damned pot. Which I did.
I also happened to have headphones in my ears at the time, because they do tend to help me focus quite a bit – shutting out random noises and thoughts. So as I began to clean, she climbed into her “hot” shower. I however, didn’t hear the shower water running because of the headphones.
I began to scrub the pot first slowly, and had a little trickle of hot water on, and then decided to vigorously scrub it and throw myself into the scrubbing – since I thought it did provide an adequately mindless break from studying – and I’d finish I thought by soaking the pan in a shit ton of HOT water.
And so on went the hot water – full blast. For about a minute. I still feel guilty about wasting the water – another post about my ideas on that soon. But, right as I was finishing the 4th rinse of the pot, all to alleviate my roommates fears, the right earbud fell out of my ear.
And I heard the shower. And muffled cursing. About the “cold” shower.
Oops.
As I shut the water off, and turned around, it seemed like she was peeking out of the door – on top of the indignity of a cold shower, she’d forgotten her towel.
“Can you, umm… look the other way please?” she shouted from the bathroom.
“Oh yeah, sure, no problem.”
She scampered into her room.
I sat down and started to study again…and thought briefly about the karmic exchange that occurred there. Hope I’m not completely in the wrong…
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