Wiping a stray Whoop-de-doo(tm) from the corner of your mouth — and one from the front of your undershirt — you enter your small, cramped bedroom. Good thing I don't have roommates, you think to yourself. It'd be hell sharing this rickety twin bed with them.
Glancing around the dark, wood-paneled room, you quickly avert your eyes from the piles of unwashed laundry decaying in a form reminiscent of a beached whale in front of your closet. Giving that thought another moment of consideration, you realize that the smell permeating your home, while it appears to emanate from behind you, smells just like what you'd expect the rotting corpse of on of those beached mammalian behemoths to smell like.
The other side of the room house a small, porthole-like window, a faux-gas lantern, and a bed with blue-and-white sailor striped sheets to complete the unfortunate nautical theme. A crow caws noisily from outside the window, probably rifling through garbage in the alley behind your house. You're not sure during which drunken stupour you came up with the notion of a boat-themed bedroom, but as a grown adult it's definitely not helping your love life any.
The smell still appears to be wafting in from behind you. Unconcerned that it may be originating back in the kitchen where you started, you keep moving away from the smell.
Contrary to what logic would dictate, do you: