How I know My Husband Doesn’t Cook

So this last summer I spent an extraordinary amount of time away from home. This left my husband to mostly fend for himself. I knew going into this that he would eat a lot of take out or with his brothers… or both. And that was fine. I had no idea the havoc it would wreck though. If anything I actually thought that my kitchen would be the safest part of the whole house. I worried more about the washing machine.

I was wrong. So so wrong.

After sending an amazing three weeks on the road I walked in to the kitchen and was immediately assaulted. It was an ungodly smell that rivaled anything I had ever smelled before.. It was like something had crawled in the pantry and died. I don’t mean in a “wow that smells bad” kind of way. I had actually thought that something had died somewhere in my kitchen. Did the dog catch a cat and stash it somewhere? How had my husband never noticed this smell before? (because he seriously Had. Not. Noticed.) Finally, after bringing every single item out of the pantry and scrubing it from top to bottom, with bleach, the smell had dissipated.

Side note… Did you know potatoes can liquefy? Gross.

As bad as that was, it gets worse. I was only home a short time before leaving again for two weeks. After returning from Girl Scout Camp I had a ton of laundry to catch up on. As I quietly loaded the machine a small noise filled my ears. It was a tiny tiny scratching sound from behind the washing machine. The sound was muffled by the wall that lay between me and the maker. Now I knew right away what it was and I called my husband up. He said don’t be silly…




Because, surely, it must be a bird…

uh huh.

The very next day. Same sound. Behind the stove. This time even the dog’s interest was piqued.

Side note… Dogs are smart and can figure out how to open warming trays All by themselves thank you very much ma’am.

After debating the vitues of glue versus snap and finding all the ideal runways the hunt began.

Immediately followed by another out of town trip. This time it was a short trip and I was back a few days later.

My final and glorious return was marked by, yet again, a horrendous stench.

A decidedly dead stench. I quickly discovered not one but TWO dead things caught in the same sticky trap.

Does anyone use the kitchen in my absence? I don’t think so.

One week and six dead rodents later, and I am glad to announce we are Mickey free.


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