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I have a million stories that bubble and collide in my brain. To get these out and on to paper is a compulsive need. An alcoholic craves the drink. A junky craves heroin. I crave the written word. ~Angi King~

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Blinded by the Light

Imagine that you are a man, exhausted from an intense day at work. Your belly is full. You're sleepy. You tuck your little youngster i...

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Tuesday, April 18, 2017

My husband and I are self-proclaimed engineers. Redneck engineers. I am not talking about fixing things with duct tape and bailing wire, although those are the main components of our tool box. Both of us grew up in families where we had to rely on our out-of-the-box thinking to find quick solutions to the situations we find ourselves in. We are well suited in this aspect. In the twenty some odd years before we married we never criticized each other, we only improved on the initial train of thought. Last night was no different.

My beloved suffers digestive issues and my good-down-home meals often have a rather pungent side effect. Last night was one of those nights.

He was peacefully sleeping while I sat in bed, drinking wine and reading a book. It was unbearable. The air became thick. I couldn’t breathe and started gagging. Instead of vacating the room for more breathable air, I searched my inebriated memory banks for solutions. After all, who wants to leave the warm comfort of the blankets to read by headlamp on the back porch?

I opened the window and turned on the fan hoping that would help. Big mistake. All that did was circulated it throughout the room.  What could I do? Air freshener: currently out of stock. Vicks vapor rub: can't stand the smell. Scented candles entered my mind, but would an open flame solve this problem?

I was desperate.

It was in that moment divine light cascaded down upon me. Angels sang. Shreddies, the charcoal filtered underwear that filtered flatulence!

I could order them, but I was dying now, not in 2- 5 business days.  What I did have is Dryer Sheets.

I jumped out of bed, scampered to the washer and pulled dryer sheets out of the box like they were Kleenex. 

Yes, I stuffed them down the back of my husband's britches. He was too far into dreamland to notice. I snuggled back down with my book and waited. 

It wasn't long before I heard what can only be described as the mating call of the humpback whale coming from my husband's rear end. Cringing, I  prayed it would work.

Paint me green and call me a cucumber, it worked!  Instead of that pungent aroma that could gag a maggot, my nose was greeted with the fresh scent of Gain. 

He did wake up the next morning to find a dryer sheet in his boxers and a huge question mark hovering over his head. It took some explaining but once he understood his face lit up, and I found myself on the receiving end of a jubilant embrace. I was praised for my ingenuity and creative out of the box thinking. He even said that he would lovingly do the same for me when I eat garlic. He will not have to, though; I will load my britches up with dryer sheets so that we all can wake up, Gain fresh and able to breathe.

Which begs another question—Am I the reason why there are warning labels on products?