It was interesting going to the zoo with my mother, all will attest. She had such a sensitive nose that all she could say as she gave wide berth to the cages was a nose-scrunched, "It's smelly! Cacaroni!" "Cacaroni" was an expression all her own, so don't be all like, "I'm going to look it up in answers.com" or anything. It translates to, roughly, "ick". I used to roll my eyes and give thanks that I received my father's olfactory glands....but just as I once rejoiced that I did not have my mother's weak stomach, that has returned to bite me in the bottom as well.

I was preparing this morning's coffee last night. I opened the refrigerator for some unexplained reason (we don't keep the coffee there), and instantly my senses were accosted by a vileness that had my nose leading my body around in frenzied circles, trying to escape the devil. It didn't help that it was a night wherein I already felt faint, dizzy with white sparkles shooting up before my eyes.

With more bravery than I really had, I opened the refrigerator door boldly and reached for aged bits, feeding them to the garbage disposal and trying not to hurl. Nick came down eventually, having prepared for bed, my absence noticeable. "How can I help?" I told him to grab the take-out box from his dinner at an Italian restaurant next. He whined, box in hand, "It's still good!" I rolled my eyes and fed the monster to the sink, muttering how we ate there the day after Thanksgiving...no way it was still good.

And with that last bit of eradication, I trudged upstairs and scrubbed and perfumed myself, but I still couldn't seem to escape the smell. Cacaroni indeed. So, with my stomach regularly on the verge of upset and my sense of smell heightened past the point of sane, I wait for my mother's memory loss to take hold. This is her enacting revenge, you know, for all the years we picked on her for being prissy.