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It's my fucking wrist rest!
Sorry.
*ahem*
Since returning from our Christmas travels, I've been noticing a faint whiff of mildew when sitting at my computer, and it's been driving me up the wall. Mildew bothers me more than almost any other smell; something about it makes it impossible for me to concentrate. It's the mosquito noise of odors. Since I do all of my work and all of my writing here, it was a problem. Even so, it was too faint to track, although you may amuse yourselves by picturing me crawling all over the loft, sticking my nose into the carpet and the fuzzy bean bag chair and the vents on my iMac. Since every smell the house produces winds up here (hot air rises, you see), I assumed it was emanating from the laundry nook, or under the sink. I did my best to ventilate those areas, but they were curiously odor-free. And I couldn't smell it anywhere else in the loft.
Enter the 3M gel-filled wrist rest I got for Christmas. Tonight, I got fed up and spent half an hour sniffing everything within three feet of my desk chair. The keyboard, sniff. The turntable, sniff. The plush Anguiras, sniff. When I got to the wrist rest...j'accuse!
I'm not even convinced it's dirty; I think it may be made from some mildew-scented polymer. I will wash it and see what happens, but since the smell appeared as soon as it did I don't think anything had time to breed. (I lose Sherlock Holmes points for not noticing the temporal connection before. I assumed it was because we'd been gone so long, with the house closed up.) It is otherwise an excellent wrist rest, though; I hope I can salvage it.
(It appears to be endemic, to judge by the second customer review on Amazon. Alas.)
Sorry.
*ahem*
Since returning from our Christmas travels, I've been noticing a faint whiff of mildew when sitting at my computer, and it's been driving me up the wall. Mildew bothers me more than almost any other smell; something about it makes it impossible for me to concentrate. It's the mosquito noise of odors. Since I do all of my work and all of my writing here, it was a problem. Even so, it was too faint to track, although you may amuse yourselves by picturing me crawling all over the loft, sticking my nose into the carpet and the fuzzy bean bag chair and the vents on my iMac. Since every smell the house produces winds up here (hot air rises, you see), I assumed it was emanating from the laundry nook, or under the sink. I did my best to ventilate those areas, but they were curiously odor-free. And I couldn't smell it anywhere else in the loft.
Enter the 3M gel-filled wrist rest I got for Christmas. Tonight, I got fed up and spent half an hour sniffing everything within three feet of my desk chair. The keyboard, sniff. The turntable, sniff. The plush Anguiras, sniff. When I got to the wrist rest...j'accuse!
I'm not even convinced it's dirty; I think it may be made from some mildew-scented polymer. I will wash it and see what happens, but since the smell appeared as soon as it did I don't think anything had time to breed. (I lose Sherlock Holmes points for not noticing the temporal connection before. I assumed it was because we'd been gone so long, with the house closed up.) It is otherwise an excellent wrist rest, though; I hope I can salvage it.
(It appears to be endemic, to judge by the second customer review on Amazon. Alas.)
