Monday, Tuesday, Friday....

This is a disgusting entry. I'll just put that disclaimer out right now. I'm not even really certain why I decided to write about it. Maybe its a bit of a confession thing for me. Its hard because one of my hobbies is cleaning. I'm not kidding. Maybe I'm just hoping that others will learn and not be as forgetful as I was.

Since I've been working part time, the days seem to blur together. Regularly scheduled meetings that I dreaded marked time passing. Now as I schedule consultations and trainings, the days are pretty random. It wasn't a big shocker that I missed garbage day last week. I was up. I heard the garbage truck and still I dismissed the noise for some other random large truck in the neighborhood and continued on my project.

J wasn't all that worried. He just said, "It happens."

Okey dokey. When I forgot the garbage in Utah, it wasn't that big of deal. My cans were outside in my driveway. Nothing much happened. Indiana? Well, that's a different story...at least that is what I learned this week. Humidity+Heat+Cans in a hot garage=bad.

We've had record setting heat this past week and I was quite creative with my cooking. This meant there was a lot of funky waste. The funk just kept getting worse and the smell was terrible. By Monday of this week I was debating putting the garbage out 3 days early and hoping that the neighborhood association wouldn't fine us. However, I decided not to do this but was holding my breath every time I had to go into the garage. By Tuesday I started parking outside of the garage foregoing the shade and letting the car just bake instead. Wednesday morning I hightailed the stinky smelly Godawful can and subsequent bags out to the curb.

J brought the can in Thursday night. I asked if the stench was still there. He is still suffering with the pneumonia and sinus issues so I realized it was a moot question. His response was sniffling.

I went to go check it out myself and get some other supplies out of our storage. This was not for the faint of heart. When I opened the lid I saw dried dead maggots. Did you read that? Maggots baked onto the lid. I didn't look further into the can because I didn't want to know. I just about lost my stomach right there. I dumped I don't know how much Lysol into that can hoping to kill all science projects. And somehow I got enough courage to put on gloves and scrubbed the carcases off of the lid with some more cleaner and paper towels. I was still suffering from the heeby jeebies when I came back inside.

"Do you realize we had maggots?"

"Huh."

I don't know what I was expecting, but "huh" just felt a bit insufficient. I guess this is why we balance each other out. I didn't realize how much of a girl I was until we got married. I squeal at spiders and insist that J will play the hero and take care of all bugs. He's earning good karma points as he always rescues them and releases them outside. When alone I typically smash their guts with the rationale that they should have known better and not come into my space. God knows how I'm going to handle Kenya.

Since last night, I've now programmed a reminder alarm into my PDA for garbage days.