About 5:30 this morning I woke up to a sickly sweet stench in my nostrils. I had somehow incorporated it into my dream and my sleepy brain was trying to make the transition from clawing my way out of a pile of refuse to clawing my way out of a pile of blankets. My first thought was “What the heck is Erik cooking at this hour???” It’s kind of a running joke between us that whenever he cooks it smells like boiled dogs ass…ironically, I wasn’t all that far from the truth. (Forced edit at gunpoint: Erik is insisting that I stipulate that the smell comes from the burners and NOT from his cooking. Let's just humor him ok?)
Annoyed that he had chosen that ungodly hour to try a new recipe, I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but the smell was absolutely overpowering. It reminded me of the landfill we used to live near when we were in San Marcos. We were actually several miles from it, but on a bad day when the wind was just right, it smelled like it was right next door. The smell is quite distinctive and whatever “this” smell was…it was doing a bang up job impersonating a landfill.
The more lucid I became, the more I realized it probably was not Erik perfecting his Ina Garten impersonation and decided to get up to investigate. The smell was so strong, I was sure it had to be coming from my room somewhere, but what in the world could go that wrong overnight? I stumbled into the bathroom and spied a sonic cup that had been a delicious cherry limeade just a few days before. (Side note: I realize the bathroom isn’t the most likely place to enjoy a crisp fruity beverage, but a few nights before, I had brought it in with me to wash down my nightly handful of pills and there it sat.) Way past its prime, I suspected the limes inside were fermented by now and growing God knows what, causing the horrible stench that woke me up. I washed my hands and walked the cup out of my bedroom and set it at the top of the stairs to dispose of in the morning. On my way back to bed I realized that the Universe was pulling no punches in trying to ensure that I had plenty of fodder for new nightmares (if and when I actually got back to sleep) as it treated me to the lovely visual of “14-year-old-with-bed-head-peeing” *sigh* “CLOSE THE DOOR!!” I sign loudly to my deaf teenager as I stomp off to bed.
Closing my bedroom door I realize that the smell is not diminished in the slightest and grab my Gautier perfume, spray a bit on my neck and crawl back in bed. Great, now it smells like a French landfill! I pull the covers over my head, shut my eyes and manage to grab a few more hours of sleep.
Somehow I managed to sleep through the alarm Tanner rose upon discovering our dog Thunder, in his crate, covered in diarrhea. Even more amazingly, I managed to sleep through what I’m sure was an even noisier crapfest as Erik realized what had happened overnight.
When I did finally wake up and venture out of my bedroom for the day, I realized that I still smelled “French landfill” only now it was punctuated with notes of cinnamon. My first thought was “I can’t believe Erik made coffee cake! He knew I was starting my diet today! I venture downstairs ready to give him a piece of my mind when I see him sitting there with the “Don’t F with me” look on his face. I look towards the kitchen and see a candle going (notes of cinnamon) and quickly learned about the true source of the aroma at Chez V. All I can say is that it is a great way to start a diet as it makes an excellent appetite suppressant!
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Monday, September 7, 2009
Posted by My Big Fat Super Super Obese Blog at 11:34 AM