This Post Should'nt Have Even Been Written

I had a kind of a crisis a couple of weeks ago that will probably give a good indication as to who in the family reads this. It started out so faint that for a few days I wasn't even sure I could smell it at all. It was a slightly familiar odor that seemed to have no source.
 The more I looked for it the more convinced i became that the smell seemed to be a little bit like the smell of my dear long departed Grandfather. The next thing that logically went through my head was that I was starting to smell like my grandfather. This was terrifying, I am way to young to smell like my grandfather. So right now you readers fall into a very small number of camps. The young people (who I like never before I so desperately wish to count myself among) who are thinking about the tragic situation, and are with me on this. The old people who are asking themselves who is this jerk? and then, do I really smell? I warn you at this point I feel the need to just digress right off a cliff. but I have to say not all old people smell bad, or even like old people at all. I had at some point, after a few days of literally walking around sniffing my apartment become somewhat resigned to the idea that I was starting to smell old, and if it hadn't just kept getting worse I think I could have grown to have accepted it. It just got worse. I felt like every day was equal to another decade I was Dorian Grey after the portrait revealed. I was slipping fast. I started wondering if others could smell it too. I kept my distance and scrubbed extra hard. after a full week of this I walked in my door after a full day of work and smelt it I suddenly realized that I hadn't all day long and that I only ever smelled it while home. (my previous conclusion for why I only ever noticed it at home was that I showered before work and that the old man funk required a few hours to ferment) I pictured myself starting to stink on my way home and that during that six blocks I would go from me to Abe Pagoda. With Pepe Le pew wavy lines trailing after. But on that day I came home and once again smelled the smell I instantly knew, gloriously knew that the old man was coming from the bottom of a pile of dirty dishes. Well I'm sure you will understand how amazing and wonderful that discovery was. I was so glad that I was not turning into an old man yet. This fortune had its share of questions, foremost was. Was my grandpa moldy? a little bit? who cares I'm not and that's how I'm gonna leave it. anyone else have a experience with "oldour"? let me know.