The One About I Smell Dead People

Category: weekleez

The One About I Smell Dead People

January 06, 2005

hi kids,

i live the crazy life. la vida loca. that’s me all over. never a dull moment. (dear god, please. a dull moment? please? for me? amen.)

so we paint at the the Holy House today. we get the key for the room and it’s one of the small units. it only has one room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. how easy. we can paint one of those units in two hours. we are good, no?

now, i’ve mentioned a million times how this apartment complex is for older people only (62 and up). but have i mentioned that sometimes the old people, they die? usually though, they die in a hospital and not in the actual apartment. and it doesn’t really bother me to paint a dead person’s apartment. mostly because i didn’t know the person. i assume it’s going to be harder to paint the apartment of one of the ones i’ve met and talked to on a weekly basis, like willadean and ms. sue.

okay, i’ll be honest, when i find out we’re painting the unit of a person who has died my first question is, “they didn’t die in the room did they?!” to which the boss (tinley) always, always, always says, “no, jaimie. they had a heart attack, went to the hospital and died there.” or something to that effect. so now, i’m never really concerned about the dead people.

but today. today was different.
we go to get the key to the room and the Key Guy was all, “oh, you need the key to the dead guy’s room?”
and dad is all, “uh. yeah.” then he looks at me and says, “i wasn’t going to tell you about that ‘cos i knew you’d freak out.”
“he died?”
“yeah.”
“well that’s okay. we’ve painted dead people rooms before.”
“uh. yeah. you’re right.”

we get to the room and open the door and oh holy lord. that? is a smell i’ll not soon forget.
“oh my god *cough*. this guy had a urine problem. *gag* and some other kind of problem. what’s that other smell?”
“i guess they put new carpet in, huh?”
“windows. *gag* i’m opening the windows.”
“i guess the guy hadn’t lived here too long. there’s no holes in the walls or anything.”
“jesus. this place *cough* needs more windows. more air. what was wrong with this poor guy?”
“even the kitchen walls aren’t too bad.”
“why were the windows closed?! this place needs fresh air! *hack* i don’t think they’ve cleaned in here.”
“the closet is perfect. i’m not going to paint the closet.”
“are you high?! can you not smell this, this, smell?!”
“yeah, it’s not as bad as i thought it was going to be though.”
“what? why did you think it was going to smell bad?”
“well, at least they put new carpet in.”
“you didn’t answer my question. why did you think it was going to smell bad?”
“well…”
“oh god. there was a dead body in here.”
“um, yeah.”
“how long?”
“i wasn’t going to tell you about this.”
“how. long.”
“five or six days.”
“OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! NO WONDER IT STINKS SO BAD! SWEET JESUS HAS EVERYTHING BEEN DISINFECTED OR WHATEVER?! I AM GOING TO HURL. HOW DARE YOU TRY TO KEEP A SECRET LIKE THIS FROM ME! GERMS! DEATH GERMS! ARGHH! NO! THIS IS DIRTY! THE AIR IS BAD! EEEEEEEEW! IT’S SO BAD!”
“see, this is why i wasn’t going to tell you.”
“you can’t not tell me something like this! did you think i’d come up here and not know that something was different about this room? jesus this smell. i can’t even imagine how bad it must’ve been when they found the guy.”
“no kidding.”
“who found him?”
“tinley.”
“poor tinley.”
“yeah, but hell, she worked at a funeral home for 15 years.”
“yes but also? THOSE PLACES ARE LIKE, DISINFECTED AND CLEAN. THIS IS DIRTY. DIRTY DEATH PISS SMELL. EVERYWHERE! IT’S IN MY HAIR AND CLOTHES! GET IT OFF ME! HELP! I CAN’T BREATHE!”
“i knew you’d have a cow.”
“i? am not having a cow. i? am just expressing my shock and awe.”

later on dad starts talking about how we need to invent an additive to paint that makes the smell of death (for such occassions) disappear.
“dad, i’m sure they’ve got stuff like that. probably something that crime scene clean-up crews use.”
“yeah, but it would be better if we could invent it.”
“uh huh.”
“‘cos then we’d get the money for it.”
“yeah.”
“‘cos right now? it smells like someone painted a dead guy in here.”
“you? are going to hell.”
“yeah, but you’re laughing.”

later, later on:
“dad?! can you come in here?” i yell from the kitchen.
dad comes in, “yeah? what is it?”
“i heard you light a cigarette. can you please smoke it in here? the smoke is so refreshing.”
“you’re a big baby.”

later, later, later on the Carpet Guy shows up to put new linoleum down in the kitchen.
“wow,” he says, “it smelled even worse in here yesterday.”
“i am so sorry.” i say, “i can’t imagine what it smelled like with the old carpet in here.”
“oh no. there wasn’t any carpet in here. they removed that before i got here.”
“oh wow. that says a lot.”
“yeah.”

so anyway. death, when left for a couple of days, has a smell. an organic smell of urine and something else…something familiar yet, like nothing you’ve ever smelled before. it’s the kind of smell where you try not to open your mouth ‘cos it gets stuck in the back of your throat making that delicious cup of perfectly brewed 100% colombian coffee taste like a cup of dead colombian. or something. i don’t know. all i know is that i’m just a simple house painter. and a girl. and as such i? SHOULD NOT BE PAINTING IN CORPSE PISS URINE DEATH ROOMS OF NASTINESS. I’VE GOT A COLLEGE DEGREE FOR CHRIST’S SAKE! WHAT AM I DOING?! I’M NOT KAY FUCKING SCARPETTA HERE! I’M AN ARTIST! I’M SENSITIVE TO THIS KIND OF THING! THE SMELL WAS HUMAN! THAT? THAT NASTY SMELL OF PISS DEATH URINE ROT? THAT’S WHAT HUMANITY SMELLS LIKE. AAAAAARRRRGH!

i’m going to go take another shower. the smell is everywhere.

next week’s epitomb: i see dead people. and they wanted me to tell you that the smell? isn’t their fault.

jaimie “la vida loca” pickle

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