I really thought my essential oils deal was going to be a two-part series. I should have known better when I entitled the last post on the topic "Essential Oils Strike Back."

That ain't the end. This crap doesn't conclude with the Strike Back. I don't know my Star Wars very well, but I do know enough to realize that there's a whole other thing coming after the strike back.

Some time passed and I desperately began airing out my house, performing black magic on it, and letting Duncan poop inside because that would be better than the stench my hoard of women left me.

And I started feeling like things were getting back to normal.

I had been watching with interest to see whether or not they would leave me a review. I was aware, based on the two or three times the main one rolled her eyes at me and stomped down the stairs, that they weren't the happiest guests I've ever had.

And look. I didn't take it personally that they didn't seem happy in my house. This woman was loco And I've had dozens of other people stay with me and leave perfectly positive reviews. I even had a couple return a month after their first visit and stay with me a second time because they liked it so much the first go-around (probably because of my hair TBH).

I didn't actually feel like the eye-rolling was reflective of me or my house that I've worked super hard to make nice.

But I still didn't want the bad review because I didn't want someone to stumble upon it, read it, and not realize that it was left by Angela from The Office.

After a week or so of no review, I thought I was in the clear. Then last Friday I got an Airbnb alert.

She returned.

She gave me three out of five stars. Her public review said only "thank you."

But there was more.

She wrote a NOVEL of complaints to Airbnb, which were then made viewable to me. Let me just highlight some of the gems:

"I had to move his stuff over in the fridge so I could fit our items."

"There was a bottle of pet shampoo in the shower."

"The steps going down to the basement were dangerously steep."

"The carpet was not new and we didn't like it."

"You can't just park wherever you want. You have to follow stupid parking laws."


"He was informed we were attending an essential oil conference. The day after we checked in we were asked not to use them in the basement due to the hosts sensitivities."

Ok. No. Mmm-mmm.

First of all, USE AN APOSTROPHE.

That felt really good. Now I know why you guys are always doing that to me.

Second, informing me that you were involved in a giant scam after you already booked the place does not make it ok for you to assault me with essential oils in my home.

If someone booked my house and then told me that they were avid hunters, I don't think it would be suddenly ok for them to slaughter a pig in my kitchen.

Third, I DIDN'T FREAKING ASK THEM TO NOT USE THE ESSENTIAL OILS I ASKED THEM TO JUST STOP KILLING ME. The essential oil smell was so strong throughout my whole house within hours of the group arriving that I literally kept having to walk outside because my eyes were burning. I legit was having problems breathing in my own house.

I seriously thought that there had been an explosion and everyone downstairs was going to be dead and I would have to start selling all of the essential oils they left in the basement to make enough money to ship their bodies home (and get a champagne pink convertible!).

At no point did I say these very reasonable words: "please stop using essential oils in my house."

I said, "the smells are really overpowering so could you please try to tone it down a little."


When you pay substantially less money than you would pay a hotel to go stay in a much larger space that includes free parking, free wifi, access to a large kitchen, access to a yard and large patio, and access to the world's cutest puppy, you might have to accept that there are the tiniest house rules that you may want to follow in order to not be a complete inconsiderate jerk to the person whose home you are staying in.

Everyone else gets this. I had a guy apologize to me for sneezing once. I DIDN'T EVEN HEAR THE SNEEZE.

And I even see this as a two-way street. For the entire week these women stayed with me, I tip-toed, refused to turn on music or TV (I SACRIFICED TV FOR THEM) and repeatedly asked them if there was anything I could do to make their visit in my town and home better.

Besides that one old lady who kept yelling up the stairs to ask me to bring her ice cream, they just acted annoyed at the question and refused to answer it.

The point is, they are staying in someone's house. Where that someone lives. With a very cute puppy. THIS puppy.

So, yeah. There might be a bottle of oatmeal organic pet shampoo that Skylar spent way too much on but insisted that it was better for Duncan's "delicate skin" sitting in the large newly-remodeled basement shower. Just like you might leave two dozen empty bottles of your essential oils products all over the bathroom floor. The difference between the two things though, of course, is that DUNCAN'S PET SHAMPOO ACTUALLY WORKS.

And I'm sorry that my carpet was not to your liking. I should have included that in the description of the house: "carpet in the basement is not new and may not be to the liking of people who cannot be pleased."

But the thing I'm most sorry for? The part for which I take full responsibility?

I am sooooooooooooooooooooo (you know that I mean it because of all the o's) sorry that there are parking laws in my city that don't allow you to leave your car exactly wherever you want and whenever you want. I'm sorry that during the day, you had to park on a side street that is 100 feet away from my house because the parking directly in front of my house is one-hour during the middle of the day. Please forgive me for not having the laws changed so you could avoid occasionally walking 100 extra feet in the perfectly nice weather. And I'm sorry that I basically stopped you from being able to use unicorn lilac endurance oil to help you have the strength for the journey.

In sum, I still don't know if essential oils actually do anything other than make my house smell like that time I danced in a puddle in my great grandpa's backyard when I was ten and then found out later that it was his pee and he also dried apricots out there. But I do know that I'm setting my Airbnb price for $6,000 a night during the week of the next revival.

~It Just Gets Stranger