Edgy Mama

I suppose this is a glimpse of the future. We’re back in Asheville, which, during the seven days of our trip, somehow morphed into a rain forest. Our vegetable garden is a jungle of thick-limbed tomato vines and elephant ear-sized squash leaves. The pumpkins and butternut squash vines have extended out across the lawn. I found two zucchini, both as big around as my upper arm. The raspberry canes are at least ten feet high, and my hollyhocks, heavy with bloom pods, are higher than the shed on which they lean.

Inside the house, closed up for so many days, the air was heavy and redolent of mold and urine. Yes, urine. About a year ago, our son fell asleep on the sofa one afternoon, then woke up in a puddle of pee. I’ve done everything I can think of to remove the smell–vinegar, enzyme smell removers, UV light, even a substance called Anti-Icky-Poo. But all it takes is a few days of heat and high humidity for our living room to begin to reek like the men’s bathroom at a baseball park. So, tomorrow, I’m calling the reupholsterer.

In other news and smells, I’m waging war on Mr. Squirrel. While we were gone, he took the top off of the birdseed can, again. The can filled with water from the torrential rains, and the combination of water, heat, and sun created a fermenting vat of evil on our back porch. We’re talking vomit-inducing, gelatinous, fly-infested goo, that I had to drain, then dump in the trash, then hose down so the stink, somewhat abated, spread across half of the back yard. It truly was one of the most foul odors I’ve yet to encounter.

I told Enviro-spouse that there will be no more birdseed for Mr. Squirrel to eat, make a mess with, and expose to the elements. Mr. Squirrel is going to have to learn to find his own food. And if I discover him sitting on the kitchen counter again, calmly munching on a peach, I’m bringing in the big guns–the neighbor’s dogs.