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Dear Bathroom Blog,

Is very good to see you. We have not make correspondence for very long time and it makes for very sadness very much.

However, we at the Bathroom Blog, despite our recent negligence, are still committed to sharing the beautiful and fuzzy moments of life as best we can, and we will attempt to keep that commitment throughout the summer, as God is our witness.

But, this post is not about apologies, no sir. This post is about the last 24 or so hours, in their complete and honest glory. A time span and unfolding of events that can only result from the braindeadness of summer, the mental cloud of herbal aides and the turbulent sleep cycles of today's urban youth.

It is written in Genesis, chapter 6, God once decided to flood the earth and kill everyone and everything. With, of course, the exception of one man, Noah, and his wife, Noah's Wife. God said that Noah had to build an ark and collect two of all the kinds of the animals (and maybe plants, but that's debatable.) Long story short, it rained for a really long time (maybe forty days, or is that another one?) and then a dove came. Anyway. That's basically what Chicago was like as our story begins. Massive downpours, thrashing winds, etc. After some long debate on the probability of death should Madison face the storm and make her way to the Dank Haus to revel in the rainy day with Luise, the decision was made. Madison, with her umbrella and kitten in hand, waded through the raging storm and arrived at Luise's, soaked, but alive and well. The two spent the evening in the best of ways: watching their new kittens play, a rock and roll film, a cake, some awkwardness, and of course, some plant. It was the best of all times.

The evening went swimmingly, until around 3am, when Luise stepped out of her bedroom and into the kitchen. It was then that the smell hit. It was 'butaney,' 'alcoholicy,' even. At first, the pair thought Luise's oven had a leak, and that they would surely die of an explosion. The two retreated to the bedrom to decide what their next move would be. They soon agreed that the smell didn't really remind of the 'sulfury' stench of a gas leak, but remained stumped as to what the mysterious odor was, or where it was coming from. Finally, after much debate over what to do (should we leave? where will we go? what about the cats? what if the house explodes? what if we get sick? we'll feel like such fools!), the two made an important decision. As it was three in the morning, the two had no where to go. No one to call. No hope. So they called the only one who could possibly help: the gas company.

Their help, however, was actually the opposite of help. It was non-help. After reaffirming that the smell wasn't a gas leak and making a lame joke about a $700 bill that only further confused Luise's deepfried brain, they departed, leaving our heroes once again alone with their enemy. Deciding to investigate the basement on the supposition that the smell was coming from a vent, the two retreated to the depths below. However, the basement yielded no evidence of the odor, and the mystery continued. It was then that the locked door to the right of the basement was spotted. The truth was then apparent. There was a meth lab underneath Luise's apartment. Of course.

This conclusion seemed to be the most probable and easily explained soultion to the mystery, and thus, it stands. The real answer, however, will most likey never be revealed. The smell was gone by morning, all evidence of its existence gone with it. Only the foggy deja-vu like feelings of a night that once was. The night of the Butaney Alcoholicey Gas Leak.

Luise's commentary on tonight's events soon to come. Stay alive, Bathroom Blog. Stay alive.

Most sincerely,
Madison Wisconsin