See, I have this friend. And once, he was wearing a sweater. And he kept touching his lit Zippo to the sweater, despite me sucking in my breath through my teeth every time because I was sure he was about to burst into flames. Apparently, it's a very good trick for eliminating sweater fuzzies, and it seemed to be doing a bang-up job on him.

Since I am wearing my first sweater of the season today, I decided to be brave. I decided to try the trick.

It did not work. I have burned off no fuzzies at all. And instead, I think I just charred bits of my sweater. I smell burny, but that particular burny that is the smell of drilled teeth. I find that scent to be less than alluring.

Also, last night someone locked my cat in my bedroom. Apparently, she really needed to get to her little kitty litter box, and could not. In lieu of that, she used the very exact middle of my down comforter. The very. Exact. Middle. And at risk of being far too graphic (I cannot even begin to cope with the word for poo, much less the concept in actuality) it seems as if she had had to go for quite some time. I ended up throwing away both my duvet cover and my sheets, across which my incontinent kitty had tracked her...leavings.

It is a tremendously good thing that I was just about to make the switch from cream-colored cotton to maroon flannel -- my fall change-up just came a few days early. When I get home tonight, I am putting up the velvet curtains again, too.

Upshot: I am not having fun with smells lately.