Tuesday, March 27, 2012

The stench opens up as a rotten egg will, when tipped down the food waste disposal...

"MMMMMph, don' wanna' get up..." J mumbled as the alarm went off for the 3rd time. I snuggled closer to his back, wrapping my arm around him so he'd be warmer.

The cats were already running around like crazed toddlers who've had too much juicy-juice, crying for their breakfast, after all, it was 6:06 AM for PETE'S SAKE, what did a body have to do around here to get a MEEEEEAL!

"Uuuuugh," he moaned as he rolled off the covers and slid out of bed. "You feel up to making breakfast this morning?" he said wistfully.

"Sure thing Honey," I yawned back at him, stretching and unsuccessfully wiping the sleep from my eyes. Hopping up I jerkily made the bedclothes and shuffled in to the bathroom to brush my teeth. J had beat me in there, and was tiredly wiping his face with a towel before slipping behind me back into the bedroom to grab a t-shirt.

My morning ablutions finished, I ambled into the kitchen, to see a pan already warming on the stove. 

"Thanks for washing the eggs!," I called to J, who seemed to be fumbling about on the back porch. A muffled "Welcome," came floating through the sounds of chicken feed being shucked into containers.

I had noticed that there were three freshly rinsed eggs in a bowl, and one sitting on a bit of paper, separate from the others. Suspicious of this, knowing J prefers only 3 eggs in the morning, I left the segregated ovum alone. 

The fork clinked in the bowl, as the three I'd chosen to demolish spun around the ceramic, blending into a yellow, viscous mixture. Setting it down, I scooped some coconut oil out of the jar, and flipped it into the pan. The delicious smell of coconut fat began filling the air of the kitchen. I poured the eggs in to the warm, buttery-like mess, where they began to sizzle pleasantly. I pinched a bit of sea-salt over them and went to throw the shells away.

"JEEBUS OBIE!" I exclaimed stepping into the laundry/utility room (where the large trash can resided) with a growl. Our large golden tabbied Maine Coon has a tendency to pull things from the laundry basket WITH HIM into the litter box. It's very exasperating. We don't know why he does it. 

Fishing out the cloth napkins floating in the pine pellets of the litterbox, and cursing quietly to myself ("Malevolent MOTHER TRUCKER!") I cleaned it out and put fresh litter in.  

Then standing up, and stepping back into the kitchen I smelled... something... browning... in an unpleasant manner... THE EGGS! 

"Oh no," I murmured frowning... J's eggs were nicely thickened into a fluffy omelet, that was turning golden brown underneath... way overdone for eggs. I flipped them over with a sigh, and grumbled about cats and napkins. 

Folding the omelette into quarters I surveyed the damage as I turned it out on to a plate. I set it in front of J, who began, bless him, to eat it anyway. 

"These are a bit... " he began.

"Overdone. I know. I'm sorry," I countered.

"I was going to say... chewy," He said grinning.

"Yes, well, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to," I tossed out grumpily, "what's up with that fourth egg anyway?"

"It just doesn't look right to me," he said "I'm going to throw it out."  I gave him a hug and began putting the dirty cups in the dishwasher. Then I plodded into the bedroom to grab a sweatshirt, before spooning his lunch into the thermos. I heard him over at the sink, the water running, the disposal on... wondering to myself what he was spinning down there, there was a loud crunchy noise, followed by the strong surging of water from the tap.

Handing him his lunch, I kissed him goodbye as he grabbed his bag and helmet. 

"Love you Darlin', see you this evening!" He said cheerfully with a kiss.

"Have a nice day," I said back. Then he left, forgetting the garbage on the porch. Oh well, it can wait a bit, I suppose.

Then I poured myself a cup of coffee and grabbing my book, slipped outside to walk and read this morning. 

It was cold out, but only just. The gray fingers of the sun were barely beginning to come up. I sank onto the porch swing out front, and sipping my coffee began to read where I'd left off in one of my favorites, "Wuthering Heights."

Then, the wind picked up and after a quick self-debate I stepped back into the house... 

And was accosted...


"Oh no... the lone egg..." I thought to myself.  As I approached the kitchen, the stench grew stronger. 

Grabbing my cell phone, I dialed J.

"Hiya Darlin', what's up?"

"Honey, where did you happen to put that funny looking egg?"

"Down the disposal," was the cheerful reply.

I groaned.

"Well Sweets, the whole house smells of rotten egg."

"Oh gosh! I'm sorry Darlin'. Maybe pour some apple cider vinegar down the sink?"

"I think we're out, but I'll try," I mumbled, "Love you."

"Love you too," he purred back. 

Sometimes little innocent things explode...

Such as a mystery egg spinning down the disposal, cracking into a horrible, overflowing stink that permeates the air around it, rapidly spinning outwards in a cloud of awful, seeping into every room and filling every space with it's deadly perfume.

Just remember, that should a small, and seemingly insignificant thing crack and show it's true, stenchy colors, hang in there.

You might want to keep some lemons on hand too; to cleanse the putridity.

Also, they're damned helpful in making lemonade after a sour day.