This morning, I woke up to a smell.
I sniff the air. What on earth is that? It's not pleasant. It's kind of choking me. I inhale again.
*cough*
Cue. Husband comes bolting down the hallway faster than Ussein Bolt {minus the gun}. Suspicious. He changes his pants. More suspicious.
"What is that smell babe?"
He replies, "oh." {no longer suspicious.
Guilty}.
"Oh, what?"
"I just smashed the vinegar on the floor."
My nostrils flare and I mutter "bloody vinegar."
I think I might vomit.
Most people wouldn't react like this to innocent ol' vinegar. But you see most people, I bet, haven't spent two weeks drowning themself {and their fridge} in the stuff. Let me explain where this vinegar-hate-thing all started.
We were a young family on our way to explore the world. We had our backpacks, we had our child and we had our passports. The world was our oyster and we were off to Vietnam. There was excitement and there was definitely some last minute thoughts. As you do.
One of those thoughts as we slipped out the door and pass the electricity meter was to switch off the mains.
"Let's be safe" I exclaimed nodding. "And save power" Husband added. "And the planet." I said as I puffed out my chest. Best human being award for me.
Flick. Switch is flicked and off we go on our amazing adventure exploring the sights, sounds and smells of Vietnam. If you haven't been to Vietnam. Go.
Three weeks pass and we, no, sorry I, return home with a grumpy and tired toddler in one hand and about 4000 bags in the other {Husband decided to stop in at work}. I see our house, let out a huge mummy sigh of relief and put the key in the door and fling it open. Home!
I breath in... and..." What the fark is that?" I exclaim in horror:
"... Why does my house smell like the market streets of Vietnam all over again?"
Market streets if Vietnam.
I bet those of you who are reading this know what I am smelling. Of course you do. Smart, you are.
It was the f*ing fridge.
Fridges need electricity {duh!}
And we turned that baby off for 3 weeks.
Remember, my super human being award I awarded myself. Crap. It all came flooding back to me as I approached the Westinghouse.
There she was. Lifeless without her hum. As I got closer I could see all sorts of matter dripping out of her. Frozen banana juice. Rotten meat juice. Soured Milk. Soggy cabbage. It was all there and it was like a horror film. It ponged {funny word}.
I wanted to shut the door and runaway. Pretend I hadn't seen it. Leave it for the husband. Oh, yes I have. "What pooey nappy? I didn't notice it."
But I couldn't. So I cried and then Noah cried. And then I started sweeping all the funky matter in the bin. Juice and all. It was soul destroying and vomit worthy. Happy holidays.
After 4 hours of clearing her contents, the Westinghouse still had a smell. It was inescapable. I googled "bad odour in fridge, help!" Vinegar was by far the favoured cleaning product so off I went to the supermarket to purchase, oh say, about 200 litres of the stuff.
That fridge got drowned in sweet V, night and day for about 2 weeks. It became a vinegar ritual. Until one day it just stopped smelling. Or maybe we had lost our sense of smell. Possible. Either way, it was gone.
And we celebrated with a happy dance, which involved me binning the vinegar.
And that my good friends is why I can't stand the smell of vinegar.
So, husband. Have you cleaned up the vinegar yet cos vinegar and I are not friends.
What fridge horror stories do you have? Do you have your own smell aversion?