21 September, 2010

Freaks. All of them.

My workplace is always full of strange smells. Usually unpleasant, often chemical in origin, and only a health hazard about a third of the time. Sometimes, I'm assuming for the sake of variety, we're afflicted with various burning smells. Mostly these consist of woodsmoke from burn-offs in the nearby forest reserves, plastic containers that people have (somehow!) managed to immolate in the tea-room microwaves and, very occasionally, from workmen setting fire to things beneath the air-conditioning intakes. In fact the air-conditioning intakes seem to be a popular spot to work: just last week some workers chose that very spot to use industrial solvent to clean their paintbrushes.

Hilarity ensued, as you can imagine.

There's a peculiar odor hanging around at the moment, and it's one of Ted's days off so it's definitely not him. The Stress Fiend and La Mondaine have been discussing it at length, and La Mondaine has concluded it's the smell of burning wiring. I'm skeptical, because it was only the other week she thought her wooden computer was on fire, but she's now prowling the office and stooping to sniff all the network ports in the belief that our internet has somehow caught fire.

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