Over the weekend, I stepped out to run some errands leaving the girls home alone. Doireann was upstairs in her lair. Eadaoin overcame her crippling social anxiety and went to a party hosted at one of her friend’s homes wherein her entire group of friends known collectively as the Nerd Herd would be gathered. This left Grace and Milly in the living room with all their stuff strewn about. Grace is obsessed with Muppets so she was making a puppet while watching old episodes of “The Muppet Show” while Camille was playing “Animal Crossing: A New Leaf”.
Everything was fine when I left.
Upon my return as I walked into my home I was practically smacked in the face with a foul odor. My husband followed. Not one to mince words he exclaimed, “Damn! It stinks in here.” Scrunching up my nose, I began trying to figure out what the cause of the offending aroma might be. Did someone burn popcorn? That can stink up a house like nothing else. No. No burned popcorn.
I started to unpack the groceries, but I could not concentrate on the task at hand. The smell seemed to linger or even grow worse! Lord, why did my house smell like an old diaper mixed with Indian food and boiled cabbage? I began opening windows attempting to get away from the oppressive scent, but it seemed to follow me.
Maybe it was one of the cats? I stared at them. They looked normal. For cats.
In my frustration, I began talking to myself. “Why does our house smell so bad?! What if someone dropped by? It smells like ass in here!” That’s when Grace spoke up.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been lightin’ it up in here…”
You have to know Grace to understand why her statement is so hilariously shocking. She is utterly feminine and girlish. She came out of the womb with a bedazzler. When she was quite small, I used to say that Liberace was her patron saint.
“You’ve been...lightin’ it up in here, you say?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Grace admitted with some embarrassment.
“I see. Well, please do open a window,” I politely asked doing my best to stifle my laughter.
I returned to the kitchen to finish putting the groceries away. My husband asked me if I had discovered the source of “the stank”. I informed him that I had indeed solved the mystery.
“Well?” he inquired.
“Grace told me that she was lightin’ it up in here while we were gone.”
He paused. He bit his lip. He tried to look serious. He asked, “She said what?”
“She was lightin’ it up!”
He put his hands on his hips and laughed, “Is that right? She lit it up?”
“Uh huh. Grace has made the leap. We now live with a 13 year-old boy.”
“Yep. I think we do. Speaking of which,” he said grabbing his iPad,” I think I need to go light it up myself.”
I don’t know which sound was louder–the sound of my husband locking the bathroom door or the sound of my eyes rolling. In any case, between Grace and my husband my house is on fire almost daily now.
I need an extinguisher.