Welcome to the Halloween home of stinky smish fell

And I didn’t even realize that the house was in stink-stank-stunk mode (because you never do when you’re the one cooking the fish, do ya?).

[–say that last little part with your eyes wide open a little bit buggin’ out of your head–]

As I mentioned, I didn’t even realize that the house was in stink-stank-stunk mode until Handsome Dude and I went to run some errands.

Well, not the while-we-were-running-the-errands part.

No.

It was the unlock-the-back-door-and-step-inside-the-house-after-we-returned part.

I began running around the house like a crazy extraordinarily focused woman–lighting the citrus candle–lighting the peppermint candle–and then remembering something I saw on Pinterest that claimed that ridding your home of unwanted odors was as easy as boiling vinegar. And I opened windows–lots of windows–all the while carrying the citrus candle as if I were laying out incense in a church.

“Oh, Hunn–come smell the house.  Hurry!”

[Who could resist that invitation, hm?]

“Okay–okay–Babe, what does it smell like? What does it smell like? I cannot believe I cooked fish for lunch. Who does that?  Who does that?  Why do I forget that smish fells? It stinks.  Fish always stinks.  Not while you’re cooking it.  Oh no–not while you’re cooking it–because who would cook it if it was stinky–no one would cook it if it was stinky. It smells delicious when it’s cooking. What does it smell like now?”

[All of that–all of that–must be spoken without breaks or breaths of any kind–and frantically.  Yes.  That will put you ‘in the moment’ as quickly as anything.]

His reply: “It doesn’t smell very good in here–but–it doesn’t smell like fish?“

He promptly leaves the building.

And the doorbell rings.

I start giggling.  I am about to open the door and unleash a mixture of smells the likes of which will turn her fair complexion green. 

So I warned her.

I opened the door 2″ and warned her.

This came to mind.  (Which is part of the reason I was giggling.)