about my Spidey sense.
I have a freakish sense of smell. Zach calls it my basset hound. As in “honey, break out the basset hound I think I smell something”.
When I was pregnant it got downright ridiculous. I could actually smell gas before it left the anal cavity. No. joke.
It both drove Zach crazy and impressed the hell out of him.
When we brought home the Christmas bush I immediately said to Zach, “This doesn’t smell like a Christmas tree.”
“That’s because it’s not, Tesi, it’s a half dead cedar or something.”
I didn’t think too much of it because I was smitten with the darn thing.
Fast forward to the next day. We walked into the house and I immediately smelled kitty litter. Since we have a cat I naturally deduced that the kitty litter had gotten sucked into the vent system and was now spreading the smell throughout all of the house.
So I moved the kitty littler to a place that had no vent system anywhere near it.
The next day I walked in the house and it still smelled like, pardon my french, a bag of buttholes. Basset hound went to work and surmised it was the tree.
I turned to Zach, broke the news that the tree was going to have to go. Basset hound couldn’t possibly live harmoniously with the foul smelling bush for another month.
Zach’s response? “This is my hell.”
But he loves me more than any human deserves and so he properly disposed of the bush.
Unfortunately all that was left was a Christmas tree I bought (or maybe my sister bought, can’t remember if I paid her back for that actually) for Wine to Water. It was $11. It is not pretty.
That said, she (clearly it’s a she) kind of fits in our family. At least until I find another bush that doesn’t smell like death warmed over.
*Please notice the wayward sword. House full of mostly boys, it’s gonna happen.