Green Acres

It's 3:00 on a recent Monday morning. You're sick. You want nothing more than to stay in bed, curled up begging for someone to shoot you to put you out of your misery. But, you have to go to the bathroom. You stumble out of bed, shivering from the fever, barely awake, and cursing your small bladder, as you stumble across the room to the attached bathroom. You push open the door when...



BAM!



It hits you like a sniper shot in the dark! You quickly close the door, stagger backwards, shake your head, and realize you must have been dreaming ~ that couldn't have possibly been real. Your bladder is letting you know that you must not ignore its calling, so you open the door once again when...




BAM!



It hits you again. Oh for the love of Lysol what is that horrible smell? You pull the door shut tight and make a quick "Hazardous Waste Dumping Grounds" sign and hang it on the door. As you scurry to the other end of the house to the other bathroom, you mentally make a note about having a long chat with your husband about the courtesy of using air freshener when necessary.

You collapse back into bed, and fall into a fitful, fever induced sleep. You dream about someone bringing you something to drink that is cold, tropical and has a cute little pink umbrella in it, while you lazily lay swinging in a hammock under a palm tree, all the while listening to the sound of the waves as they come ashore. And you look absolutely adorable in your size 5 swimsuit.



beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.



You grumble at the alarm clock for interrupting such a great dream. You stagger towards the bathroom shivering from the fever, and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Lovely. As my dad would say "You look like a member of the Hag of the Month club". Your eyes are bloodshot, your glands are swelled up, and your hair reminds you of Don King on one of his better hair days. But your sick, so you don't care how you look. All you want to do is use the bathroom, grab a quick drink of water and crawl back into bed. You open the door to the bathroom and...



BAM!



Ok, even your hubby can't make a stink that lasts THAT long. Something is seriously wrong in here! And then what you can only blame on delerium from the fever, you stand there sniffing, trying to figure out what the smell is, and hoping you do it before you are overcome and you pass out right there.


You sniff.


You sniff again.


And now you recognize that wretched unique smell....