Many readers will know the joy and adventure of the break room at work. There is the inevitable miasma of burned (or, what the heck, not burned, but simply foot-scented) popcorn. The scary refrigerator. The crowded configuration of sink/microwave/fridge/ice maker and so on – but trash cans are always well across the room. The stolen food, the leftover food, the occasional present of crumbcake, the odd notices posted, the joy and sheer cameraderie of shared corporate hunger.
The day someone brings fish.
The day someone else brings barbecue, and it smells so good your little wan sandwich makes you get resentful.
Today was a new day. Today was the day … someone brought in a gourmet dish of mustard and creosote for lunch.
It was enough to make the world long for stinky-foot popcorn. Burnt.
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Ikk. Popcorn. Unless it's caramel popcorn (i.e., the popcorn is merely a vehicle for the caramel), I like neither the smell nor the taste of the stuff. And everyone at works likes to pop popcorn in the break room microwaves. There's barely a moment I'm in there where the air isn't contaminated with that loathsome odor. Oh, the trials I put up with. First World problems... :)
Ah, but REAL popcorn is a mighty fine thing. I made it myself in the same pan my dad used when we were kids, and ate it out of the same bowl - with REAL BUTTER and a bit of salt (or a bit of sugar and cinnamon - now that is good) - for years, until I got a flat-top range a few months ago and the old pan was no longer good on the cooktop. Real popcorn is fresh. It smells beautiful. It all pops. It's simply wonderful to share.
That crap that comes in a microwaveable bag is not popcorn. It stinks to high heaven. And it is not allowed in my home.
Dad did used to make caramel corn too. Mmmmm. Memories.
Hubby dear doesn't understand why I detest, no, make that DETEST the smell of microwaved popcorn. He'll get up in the middle of the night, and b/c he can't sleep, he'll eat a *SNACK.
I can SO relate to the breakroom stink. And the day someone brings FISH. I used to get so irritated by what people ate. I wanted to protest those smells just like some people protest if someone wears too much cologne/perfume.
*translation - pops a bag of poison.
I'm usually fairly chill about the kitchen thing, but - yeah, please at least PRETEND to consider others.
People who do not get smell-headaches have no idea what they're doing to those of us who do (nausea and migraine because you need to smell so strong it can be detected from yards away? UGH). They think people who do not enjoy migraines from their smoke stink or cologne (or the combo pack of both, because they're dumb enough to think the one covers the other) are hypochondriacs. They also have NO clue how disgusting they smell. *Shudder*
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