I headed downtown and picked up a prescription for the kiddo, then my own contact lenses that have been languishing at the optometrist’s for over a week because his office has a really kooky schedule and I can never seem to hit it at the right time. Then I bop on over to Aldi. Because I? Am not only effectual, I am thrifty. I buy the creamer and the hubby’s sodas…those were the pressing needs. Then I go ahead and pick up the ham and the pie ingredients that I will need as my family’s contribution to Thanksgiving. All at low, low prices.
Leaving Aldi, I swing by the vape shop for some supplies (Jeff hasn’t had a cigarette since March! Another yay!) and head to the house to make dinner…which will be delicious. I have marinated turkey tenderloin, sweet potatoes to roast and some Brussels sprouts. Usually, dinner is something that we can throw together in 10-15 minutes because we get home and we are STARVING. But today, I actually have time to put together a nice meal. Right about now? I am feeling like Wonder Woman
I unload the groceries, let the dogs in, and start to prepare my dinner. I have decided to stay dressed in my work clothes since I am looking mighty damn cute today, if I do say so myself. (Eggplant colored sweater dress, funky paisley leggings and studded ankle boots) It’s a little silly, but I want Jeff to see me in this outfit and not in my normal schlepping around the house wardrobe (baggy t-shirt…usually his, no bra, pajama bottoms). So I tie an apron on and get busy fixin’ dinner. (Brief side story…we once had some vendor from England visiting out at my workplace. The receptionist told him that she was about to leave because she had to “carry her daughter to practice and then fix supper.” He was completely flummoxed about what this lady was doing. Apparently, in the Queen’s English, you ‘re only “carrying” something if you are physically lifting it, and you only “fix” something that is broken.)
I get the turkey tenderloin in the oven, peel the sweet potatoes over the sink…then dice them, drizzle a little olive oil and sprinkle them with some bourbon/brown sugar seasoning stuff and pop those in beside the turkey. The brussels sprouts get the same treatment, but with some kind of savory seasoning mixture. I go to the sink to wash down the potato and brussels sprouts scraps…turn on the garbage disposal and…GUSH!!!! Up spouts a geyser of sweet potato peelings and gray, foul smelling liquid. I’m telling you, this fountain of vile spewed up 3 feet, minimum. It went ALL. OVER. MY. KITCHEN. Thank God, all of the food was in the oven and not sitting on any counter space. I have flecks of Brussels sprouts giblets and potato peels in my hair…my cute sweater dress is doused with the disgusting pipe backwash…which is also on the floor, on the counter, on the blinds! Gag! Literally, I am gagging. The smell is horrific. I cut the water and the disposal off…grab some paper towels and do a cursory swipe at anything dripping. I head upstairs and take off my cute (befouled) clothes in the laundry room and grab a pair of yoga pants and a working-around-the-yard T-shirt so that I can go deal with this mess. I’m not feeling so Wonder-Woman-y anymore. I’m feeling more like the Swamp Thing
I know I SMELL like the Swamp Thing. I get two buckets, drag everything out from under the sink…and the door bell rings. It’s our HVAC repair dude (and that’s a story for another post…maybe tomorrow’s). Getting back under the sink, I take the PVC pipes apart from where they attach to the disposal over to the U-joint.
What was in that horizontal run of pipe was unspeakable. The cats ran from it, and they lick their own butts. I took it outside and over to the empty lot and dumped it and rinsed it out. The police have probably had reports of the smell of a dead body by now.
I did somehow manage to put the sink back together, put the under-the-sink items back up (why do I have three bottles of Mop n’ Glow in various levels of empty? I’ve been in this house 9 years and can’t remember using anything but a Swiffer WetJet), clean the cabinets and counter tops (with BLEACH) and make myself more-or-less presentable (at least non-smelly and sans potato peelings) before Jeff got home.
Hey, maybe I am a little bit Wonder Woman.