Here I am in my room. Just stressing about the next few days to come in which there are so many things happening and so many fucking things to do, much stress lies upon my shoulders. Aside from pondering the whimsical and annoying things surrounding me, I smell this awfully familiar scent. I smelt it many a time whilst in the science rooms, burning plastic, or in my room, burning plastic, the smell is unforgettable and completely wretched.
My first thought is, my mum must be right, I don’t have enough fresh air nor oxygen in my room. Not that I continue to open my windows, not sure why I don’t though. Anyhow, my second thought is that my parents may be trying to poison me with toxic fumes of burning plastic. It seemed highly unlikely, so I just shut my door to prevent fumes from intoxicating my air.
Anyway, I go downstairs because I need to check something. The door is closed. I call out. No one answers. Then suddenly it dawns on me. There must be an intruder and possible murderer in the house who has already gotten my parents and started burning plastic, and I think, do I sneak back upstairs and call the police? What do I do? Stupidly, I call out again, “Hello?”
Anyway, turns out my parents are alive and well. I open the door and see my mum sitting in her chair watching the X Factor. I say, “It smells like burning plastic!” She says, “Oh what? You can smell it upstairs? I burnt my hand.”
I’m thinking, okay, she burnt her hand. So I guess burning flesh smells putridly similar to that of burning plastic.
I go and eat a strawberry. I come back and she says, “Uncle brought me this thing to burn my hand from China to help with the pains in my hand.”
What the hell?!
What is this wizardry?! I mean seriously, my mum is all for herbal and Chinese medicines, but I really do not feel that burning your skin could have nearly the amount of benefits that it does harm. Freaking herbal medicines…
Down and out,
Just Another Woo Girl