Wednesday, October 29, 2008

A Little Halloween Story...

...that will make you cringe.

Remember the great Edgar Allen Poe story, "The Tell-Tale Heart"? Well, I feel like I am living that story, except my version would be "The Tell-Tale Smell".

This all started on Saturday after I returned from a wonderful day at the Stampin' Up Regionals event in San Antonio. I was glad to be home after the long day and really was just looking forward to fetching my child from our neighbor's house and then taking a relaxing bubble bath before dreaming sweet dreams of stamping in which every door prize would come to our table and not to everyone else's, and my entire group would be asked to join Shelli for dinner because no one in the room could match our raw, unbridled talent. (Hey, it was my dream, so I am allowed a little poetic license there!)

I get my stuff in the door and notice a bit of an odor in my kitchen. My first thought is that the garbage can most likely needs emptying. Why would it need emptying? Well, because the same family who does not know how to get sustenance from the big, cold box to the smaller, scary hot box and to the table surely does not know that the stuff that gets left on the plate ends up in the neato green thing with the swinging door, and from there to the REALLY neato green thing outside. All they know is that every Monday morning at 6 a.m. little magic garbage fairies must come to take our refuse away, since it all miraculously disappears into the west like Shane did at the end of the movie.

So, I take a whiff of the garbage can and realize that is not what I am smelling. Now, here is a little inside information for you. When I worked as a paramedic nothing fazed me in the visual sense. You could be on the side of the road with any number of horrific injuries and I would help you out without so much as a blink, as long as you did not smell bad. Smells, it seems, were my downfall. This is the reason that I learned very early on in my career to always carry Vicks VapoRub in my little fanny pack to help ward off any evil that might try to waft its way into my nasal passages. Trust me on works. Sure, your eyes may water like you were slicing onions, but once you shove Vicks up your nose you aren't going to be smelling anything else for awhile.

I began to make my way through the house trying to identify what the smell was, and more importantly, where it was coming from. I finally narrowed it down like I was playing Clue. " it a dead rat somewhere in the wall of my bedroom...killed by the packs of rat poison my hubby put out in the attic?" Yes. Unfortunately, I had found the correct answer.

As Lydia wrote of earlier today, here in Austin we have a rat "issue". Specifically, they are Norwegian roof rats. I know what you are thinking. The same thing I thought when I first heard of this particular breed: the only things that come out of Norway are cool sweaters, Olympic skiers, and hunky fishermen. And, while our house has one less Norwegian Roof Rat running around outside, this one decided that as his final act of revenge he would manage to squeeze his way into the ridge vent on my roof, crawl into the wall that sits right behind my vanity, and lay off his mortal coil. I wish someone would invent a Norwegian Roof CAT, we could sell them here in Austin and make a small fortune at it.

For those of you who always asked yourself, "Self, I wonder why they say love, honor, and cherish in wedding vows?" let me give you some working examples of these verbs.

"Love" is when your hubby will bring you a ponytail holder, a wet rag, and a sprite after you have thrown up.

"Honor" involves any trip to the store where a stroll down the "feminine products" aisle, and purchase from said aisle in your absense, is warranted.

"Cherish" is crawling Navy SEAL style across the darkest recesses of the attic to try to fish out the corpse of a rat for your wife so that she can sleep in bed again and enjoy her now long overdue bubble bath. All I can say is "thank you" honey! I am going to make you a pot roast tomorrow night for the manliness of your actions.

Thus ends my story of the Tell-Tale Smell. I hope that you were able to stick with me during this one...and if you gave up, well, I can't say I blame you. I do have some great card ideas floating around in my mind tonight, so I am going to stay up and stamp for awhile and tomorrow will bring some pictures. I hope everyone has a wonderful, rodent free evening. Until next time...Happy Stamping!

P.S.---The Komen 5K is just around the corner! You can still register at the Komen race center at 1107 N. IH-35, or contact me for more information. I would love to have you come jog/walk with me this Sunday!


1 comment:

Rose said...

Ewwwww. . . but did you know that rotten milk can smell like a dead animal?? And once I somehow forgot to take fresh meat - turkey, chicken, and beef - out of my trunk and we found it a week later. It had died AGAIN!!

See you Sunday morning!