So of course, this whole story began during A Fashion Heat Stroke when I dressed as if it were 60 degrees, when it was (instead) 107. I kept that in mind while deciding what to wear to pick up the oldest one from camp. It was going to be a nice 80 degrees, so I felt like this was the only logical attire:
Pickup went great. She survived camp and we were so glad to see her! We packed up and said goodbye to Camp Idlewild and were on our way.
Since I hadn’t had enough punishment the day before, I took the baby, who had been horrible all day, and the kid that was exhausted from camp, and Hubbin back to the mall to shop! Doesn’t that sound like an awesome idea? It was just as fun as it sounds. Even though we were in the car for over an hour, giving the baby plenty of time to sleep, she chose instead to give me the death glare the entire ride. She fell asleep 5 minutes before we got to The Cheesecake Factory, which every parent will agree that having a tired, cranky child fall asleep 5 minutes before you get somewhere is like the worst outcome ever.
She was actually pretty good, until we got our food. We had an 8 minute window to eat before she got so bad that Hubbin took her outside. So, like the selfless mother I am, I scrapped my plans of shopping and took her home. Oops, I spelled “decided to carry on with my plans and shop till we all scream” wrong. She cried for at least an hour and a half in her stroller. It really was just awful. We finally got her to sleep, and about 15 minutes into that nap, we were in an elevator in H&M and this stupid little kid yelled “IS SHE SLEEPING” and woke her up and I swear I have never wanted to kill a child more in my life (not mine, the stupid boy).
I’m pretty sure the day kept going, but I apparently have completely blocked it out, because the next thing I remember is getting home. And if you think that means the story is over, you’d be wrong.
Let me state for the record that on Friday, before we left, I went down to the basement/dungeon to do laundry, and something smelled…off. I have a super, super heightened sense of smell, so when I asked Hubbin to confirm, he didn’t smell anything. I didn’t really think of it again.
And so we are exhausted and shopped out on Saturday evening, frustrated from 24 hours of an angry baby, that all we want to do is get inside and collapse. Hubbin goes ahead of me to unlock the door, and I see him stop short as soon as the door is open. He looks back and says “Something bad happened.”
Oh really? You don’t say!
I walk into what is the unmistakable smell of rotting animal flesh and it is 90 degrees in the house. HOLY SHIT, SOMETHING DIED IN HERE WHERE DID IT DIE PLEASE FIND IT OMG WHAT IF ITS A BEAR?! I stop using punctuation when I am overly excited, attempting to appear ignorant, or on Twitter, in case that wasn’t otherwise apparent.
I take the baby straight to bed (and notice that it’s hot in the house because Hubbin turns the air conditioning off when we go on “vacation”, even though this was a mere 24 hours to Hell), and appropriate Hubbin on Operation Find Rotting Carcass. After about 15 minutes, he comes up and announces that he’s found the issue – someone* left the freezer door open downstairs.
Now, since I don’t cook, this wouldn’t ordinarily even be noticeable. However, we were just hit by the big ass storm in Virginia, so my parents lost power for nearly a week. Since they didn’t want to lose all of their food, they brought over probably 70lbs worth of moose and deer meat from animals that my father had
shot tickled to death. And there is no two ways about it, it was SLIME. It was completely defrosted. And, to make matters worse, he’d also stashed some at my sister’s house during the storm, who randomly lost power for a week, days after the storm. She lost everything as well. So this was the last stash of his meat. I was so scared to tell him that I called my mother’s cell phone instead and let her break the bad news.
Hubbin spent the evening, as well as the next morning cleaning out the freezer and the basement in general, just to make sure there wasn’t still some rotting-ass creature down there. There wasn’t.
So there you go. That was the 24-hour trip from hell!