No perhaps it started with the noises in the attic...
...or maybe an old friend that no one remembers?
Last night I was rooting around my pantry to come up with a meal to cook for myself and with the limited amount of groceries I allow myself to keep on hand, that was a task not too many want to tackle. I, Little Miss Julia Child wannabe took the challenge and commenced rooting like a rat. I came up with Penne Pasta, Pesto and Fresh Frozen Shrimp.
Hmmm, I said..I think I can! I think I can! and yes I did!
We all know what shrimp peelings smell like after they've been sitting awhile? I placed mine in the garbage can in a plastic bag knowing that in the morning I would be discarding them outside in the garbage bin to be picked up by the trashman. This morning I awake to a deluge the likes of which God should be very proud! Since sugah melts, I could not bring my trash to the bin at the road so instead of leaving it in the house, I place it on my bbq pit on the patio, praying to the God that sent the monsoon not to allow any neighborhood cats to pimmage through it leaving a scattering of stinky shrimp shells. Driving under my carport, I continue my prayers and when I rounded the corner, my eyes lit upon the untouched garbage bag.
God is Good! Sometimes.
I hurry and dispose of all evidence.
Unlocking the door, I walk into my laundry room to a smell that would knock out Cassius Clay, Muhammad Ali and whatever other name he goes by. WTF? I'm thinking to myself Ali killed somebody with his "sting like bee" punch and left the dead body in my house to rot.
Rewind to the previous night, I'm chatting on Facebook with an old friend of my brothers that I have no remembrance of ever knowing but he remembers me. hmmmm...time to rummage up an old yearbook, eh?
I disregard the smell for awhile, pull down the ladder to my attic, and climb up, knowing full well I should never do that alone especially being of the advanced years that I am. My need to know the identity of my Facebook friend outweighs all caution. Up the ladder I go, and I turn on the light to the sounds of FLIES whirring around like helicopter blades. Whoosh! The smell hits me worst than any Muhammad punch. I rush down the ladder like a spring chicken, throw up the ladder, and shut the attic door, but too late! Out comes a swarm of flies battling each other to find residence on every piece of furniture.
I have three flyswatters somewhere in this house! Count them...THREE. I cannot not find one of them! Why? Because I allowed my grandson to play with them at one point and I prayed to Allah, St. Anthony and all the Saints but still could not find a swatter to swat them flies!
I headed to the local grocery store to purchase one and they had everything imaginable but a flyswatter but lo and behold they had a flystick. I will buy anything NOT to have to go to Walmart! So I purchase this lil invention and bring it home WITHOUT reading the directions thinking "how hard can it be?"
I get home and proceed to read that you need syrup or honey to attract the damned flies to the stick. Refer to Paragraph One...I have limited groceries in my pantry, the least of which is honey or syrup. The flies are a buzzin' and Sharlene's a rooting in her pantry for something to attract them. My eyes finally come to rest upon a box of brown sugar. I started singing a Rolling Stones song (Ah brown sugar how come you taste so good(a-ha) brown sugar, just like a young girl should A-huh) as I made a mixture for the flystick.
Well folks, there is one of the flies (Ali) does it look like it's on the stick?
Didn't think so.
Guess who'll be catching flies tonight as she sleeps with her mouth wide open?