Crouching Quinoa, Hidden Tupperware

My name is B, and I am a pseudo-adult.

I’ve been coffee shop hopping around PDX on the weekends, trying to find just the right spot to escape from the world and practice my writing.  When I sat in my car Saturday, I noticed a funny smell.  I looked around and saw a banana peel on my passenger side floor.  “I’m disgusting,” I said out loud, and grabbed the peel and some other pieces of trash and threw them in the garbage.

I got lunch at a travel cafe on Broadway and hung out for a couple of hours, until I saw they were ready to close up.  When I got back into my car, the smell was still here.  I thought maybe the banana peel had left some lingering odor on the floor mat, so I got out my lavender air freshener to mask the smell.  That thing is pretty strong, so normally I keep it in its package, but this was an emergency that required an odor neutralizer of some force.

It seemed to have done the trick.  Yesterday I left for brunch on Alberta, and my car only mildly smelled funny.  After ingesting some serious noms, I headed over to my favorite consignment shop on Interstate, and then landed at a coffee shop in an old house.  It was cute, but not quite what I was looking for, especially since the wi-fi wouldn’t work.  So after drinking my chai, I gathered my things and headed for Killingsworth to the best spot I’ve found so far for a cup of rooibos and some serious writing and introspection.

Again, after I was done there and headed home, my car still smelled okay.

And then this morning happened.  I opened the door and sat down, and my car smelled like a garbage can.  The stench was overwhelming, my olfactory glands in overload as I covered my nose with my mitten.  What the hell?  I quickly glanced around, but time was not on my side, and I had to  take off for the transit center.  I arrived and parked, and with a few minutes to spare before my train left, I searched my car with the ferocity of a drug sniffing canine.  Nothing in the front, nothing in the back.  I was completely perplexed. 

Where could this be coming from?  I realized I hadn’t checked underneath my seats, so I reached my hand as far underneath the driver’s side, and nothing.  I switched to the passenger side and thrust my hand forward.  It hit what felt like cold glass, and I knew immediately what it was.  Although the container somehow became tightly wedged underneath the seat, I managed to pry it loose and pull it free.  It was a glass Tupperware that somehow got trapped.  How this happened, I have no idea.  Maybe it was in one of my bags, and I had to stop short and it flew out and got stuck.  Regardless of its journey, there had been leftover quinoa from lunch that I had not rinsed out before I brought it home.  The contents had begun to decompose to the point where the smell escaped the container and tight-fitting lid and wafted throughout my vehicle, the aromatics of which were intensified when I freed it from its seat-prison.

“This is a new low, B,” I said out loud.  I held the container for a few minutes, unsure of what to do with it.   In haste, I decided to just throw the dish and its rotting contents into my trunk, hoping the smell would be contained in there for the remainder of the day.

Between the banana peel, the hidden rotting quinoa, and the other general messiness- both figurative and literal- of my life, and I can officially declare that I may look like an adult, but really, I’m just an overgrown teenager.


Is it too early to spike my coffee?  Where’s my fun flask when I need it?

Until next time ~ B


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