Because I am courteous that way
Recent phone call between GH and myself:
Me: Hi there.
GH: Hey, what's up.
Me: I'm just calling to let you know that when you get home tonight I am going to murder you.
GH: Oh. Why's that?
Me: Remember that time when you did the dishes before we left town for the weekend? And how that was really great of you?
GH: Uh huh.
Me: What was less great, was the part where you put a three-week-old piece of cod in the garbage disposal and then left it there to rot.
GH: (Laughing.)
Me: And then, when I run the disposal to get rid of the cod, I learn that there is ALSO a dessert spoon down there. So now I get to REACH IN WITH MY HAND, into the shredded stinky fish that's been just sitting there all weekend, and get the spoon out.
GH: (More of laughing, because maybe that is his response to imminent death. Very Han Solo of him.) Okay, see. I can't take responsibility for the spoon, but---
Me: ------WITH MY HAND!!!!
GH: Okay. I didn't know about the spoon being down there. But the fish, see, I was just trying to get rid of that garlic smell you were complaining about earlier.
Me: Well, it worked. I don't smell any garlic.
GH: See? There you go.
Me: Uh huh. You're still dying when you get home.
GH: I do appreciate the heads-up on that.
Me: You should.
GH: Okay, I love you.
Me: Love you too.
Seriously though, people? That is stank. Go do that to someone if you hate them. I was roaming all over the kitching, trying to figure out where that goshawful smell was coming from, only to peer down the disposal and see this slab of fish, just hanging out.
One lemon and a bunch of vinegar cleanser later, and the smell is mostly gone. Also I had to go scrub the violated hand with a steel-wool pad until there was nothing left but a nubbin.
shudder
I'm Steph, a librarian and mom of 3 (not sure how that happened). Let's chat books, food, Sumptuous Literary Adaptations, poop, knitting and maybe some crazy Mormon Feminism.
19 comments:
Well, at least now the baby won't feel so alone with the only nubbin/stubbin in the fam.
You are more courteous than I am. I would have said all that AND thrown in a guilt trip about being pregnant and how that makes smells so much worse and how I'm supposed to avoid fish and so somehow the mercury probably seeped in through my skin and would make our child be born a mutant... you get the idea. Of course, after living in the Cigarrette Smoke Saloon, maybe touching fish isn't quite the child mutant scare tactic it would have been for me.
It's for times like this that I keep Plink on hand. So what if it's some Bed, Bath, and Beyond scam. I don't even care that it could possibly contain some harsh, toxic chemical. The citrus-scented goodness just takes away eau de garbage disposal.
Your nubbin will go well with your flippered baby.
You could try some vinegar down the drain too to help with the smell. Or go buy some more citrus and put all the peels down the drain.
There was a sack of potatoes that turned to liquid in one of my college apartments once. That was one of the worst smells I'd ever experienced. And of course nobody took responsibility for the potatoes.
My hubby cut up fish on our VEGE cutting board once - tried to get rid of the smell and couldn't until a friend suggested Vanilla Essence. REALLY. Try it! Smells yum and gets rid of the stanky fish smell. Seriously.
And I also just had to say that my word verification word is "pineosin" can totally see this as some kind of decadent, indulgent furniture polish :P
You reminded me that I bought halibut for dinner last Saturday and it's still in the fridge. Crap.
eww. eww. eww. A pregnant woman should NEVER have to do that. Surprised you didn't puke.
Congrats on your pregnancy, by the way!!
Just think of it as like mom training skills, for when you get to fish chunks of baby vomit out of your cleavage on an airplane. Or when your toddler takes your cell phone into the bathroom and is trying to talk on it and wipe her bum and drops the phone into the toilet water.
So maybe next time you can call him and be like, when you get home there will be a big fat thank you card on the table for you for giving me such wonderful skill training!
.
The moral to this story of course is don't use a garbage disposal.
You are too funny. :) I enjoy reading your posts.
Jenny, did those things really happen to you? I mean, the vomit in the airplane thing and the cellphone toilet incident?
Nasty.
I, too, am surprised you didn't throw up. You must have a really strong stomach. When my mom was pregnant with me, she and my dad were cleaning out a house where some students had lived. The students had moved out and unplugged the fridge, allowing some ground beef to thaw and rot. Mom said when she opened the freezer it was one of the worst smells ever.
Nasty again.
I'm glad you told...but that sounds so disgusting. So how is he going to make it up to you?
I feel your pain! My husband once left rotting fish skin in the trash, I literally almost fainted of the smell when I opened the bag. It waas beyond vile, and I wasn't even pregnant!
We lived in a single-wide mobile home, back in the day, swamp cooler and all. I, in all my African ignorance (didn't know much about either swamp coolers or mobile homes), left out some chicken to defrost.
It's been almost 21 years since I was pregnant and just mention rotten chicken and I will throw up in my mouth just a little.
GH sounds just like my hubby in similar situations.
Thanks to my daughters to turning me on to the blog. Makes me smile a lot.
Oh wow. I am super impressed you didn't lose your lunch.
did you happen to ever see the movie "grumpy old men"? totally makes me think of that. haha! i hope you didn't murder GH because i'm really looking forward to paul mccartney with you guys. maybe beat him up a bit and wait until after mccartney to totally go through with it. ;)
Those fumes have to be at least as bad as ciggy smoke for the fetus.
did i leave my black downeast shirt at your house? It's a size xs. i never saw it come out of my suitcase this week. thanks!
Speaking of feelings, just wait until you're sobbing hysterically, for no reason, and your husband is looking at you like, "what the...what am I supposed to do about this?"
Good times. Pregnancy is magical, no?
I mean, it really is, but still.
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