My life in the petri dish

As indicated by my day old, empty container of Lofthouse orange flavored cookies (nom nom nom), it has been a rough couple of weeks. First, trailer meets house then nervous breakdown then sending the babygirl to daycare. Craziness.

Life is getting back to normal. Well, normal-ish.

We've had a series of house guests. We love our house guests! Especially the ones that leave the house in a better condition than they found it! We have FANTASTIC house guests.

Knowing that someone is coming (generally) forces me to maintain a tidy house rather than require the oh-shit-they're-pulling-down-the-drive whirlwind. It generally prevents that rabid dog look in my eye when the guests arrive.

Plus we love our house guests - we take them out to enjoy the woods, get a little West Nile with a side of lyme disease, or swim in the creek or just hang out inside without cell reception. It's like roughing it but not. It's like staying at a park lodge without the luxury of turn down service. That is unless you count the two 80 lb dogs laying on your pillow turn down service. We love our company and them being here is relaxing for us. A break from life.

Until.

I went to make the bed for my last minute guest family coming on Friday. I had the air mattress all inflated up (we're high class here, ya'll) and ready to go from my mom's visit the weekend before. I quick change of the sheets, and I'd be set.

Tuck, tuck. Hospital corners are a pain in my ass when the mattress is shifting all over hell and creation. Tuck. Tuck, tuck. SQUISH.

WHAT THE FUCK.

Seriously. My shoed food was now wet on top. ON TOP. I had stepped in a puddle in my office - and it SPLASHED. The series of words that I emitted at that point would have made George Carlin blush.

Back track to earlier in the morning.

I'm sitting at my desk...thinking...sniffing...what IS that smell. Take shoe off, sniff shoe. Sniff foot. Nope. Work, work, work. Sniff. Major nostril flare. Sniff. Where is the rotting fruit? I don't eat fruit in here. It smells like rotten fruit. Searching desktop (which is unusually clean and decaying-food free). Sniff. Gag, sniff. Pit check - sniff - shower fresh. Chair spin sniff. Shrug. Work, work. Sniff. FUCK. Sniff, Sniff. Shoe check. Under desk check. Sniff. Screw it, work in living room.

Yes, my friends, I was smelling the smell of 20 year old carpet soaking. FANTASTIC. Apparently the 2.5 inches of rain we received in one hour last week had stopped up our (quality) gutters and sent the water sheeting down the window and into the gap around our air conditioner, down the wall, and into our beloved (snicker) blueberry blue carpet.

Needless to say, our guests did not stay in that room, but bunked in my stepson's much smaller, much more cramped room. Air conditioners, shop vacs, and box fans have been challenging the load on our circuit breaker ever since. I re-entered the room this morning to find dark blotches on the walls near the crime scene.

Audible sigh.

When it rains it pours...and then grows potentially deadly spores 5 feet from where I lay my babygirl to sleep at night.