So Marge (the 90 yr old naked neighbor) stopped by on Halloween to bring my girls a Halloween treat. It was so sweet of her, and the girls took advantage of the opportunity to glutton themselves with all the candy corn a child could wish for, while she was at the house, because they knew I wouldn't tell them they couldn't eat the treats she brought them in front of her. I invited Marge in to visit for awhile, even though at the time I was so nauseous I could barely make it an hour without running to the bathroom at least once.
She came in, and the nausea got worse! I couldn't figure out why at first, but then I noticed she was sporting a new leather jacket....
that REEKED of moth balls.I struggled through the next fifteen minutes, as she told me about how her son found the jacket for only $5 at a thrift store and she just can't imagine how anyone could sell such a beautiful jacket for only $5! Breathing as little as possible to avoid the smell, I made small talk, and thanked her for always bringing over little treats for the kids. It is nice to have such a sweet, generous neighbor. It wasn't her fault...it wasn't old lady smell or anything...just
old leather, bred with moth balls. But it was just so horrid-even for someone who isn't pregnant and overly sensitive to odor.
As soon as she left, I made a mad dash and threw up for a good half hour. I was actually proud of myself for my willpower and bodily control, that I was able to make it through our visit without having to excuse myself to go throw up. The Meggo is quite the sicky when she is preggo, and I can't always make it, even when I am
NOT faced with the challenge of an awful smell to make my stomach turn. When I came back into the living room, I had to run BACK to the bathroom and throw up some more...the SMELL had somehow become more powerful and had set up camp on sofa!
Ever see that episode where Jerry leaves the car with the Valet, and afterward there is really bad BO in the car that they can't get rid of?
That's what this was like. I was like Elaine hanging my head out the car window....praying that the smell wouldn't attach itself to my hair. I lit candles, turned on every fan in the house, opened the doors and windows (even though it was freezing outside) and finally had to just back up the girls and go run errands.
Aaron even noticed the smell when he got home that night.
It was SO BAD. Poor Marge. Isn't it a child's responsibility to TELL their parents that they smell like moth balls?
Mom I promised never to let you have blue hair. I would like to add the promise of telling you if you smell like moth balls. What is my neighborly obligation? Suffer in silence or tell her she stinks? I opted for cowardly silence...but told Aaron he is NOT to invite Marge in if she is wearing a black leather jacket.
I sound shallow? Do I? You didn't smell it.
So last week, I took some holiday treats over there, and she invited me in.
How does HER house not smell like moth balls?! Maybe it works like a porcupine, where the quills don't hurt the porcupine itself...but leave a trail of destruction wherever they wish.
Marge the naked neighbor with the porcupine jacket. Skunk still seems more appropriate, but whatever.
Anyway, she invites me in and hands me two little stuffed ornaments for R and Q to put on our tree.
So sweet! I immediately feel the familiar guilt that I often do when it comes to my neighbors. It is a familiar pattern:Neighbor exists.
Meg mocks neighbor.
Neighbor brings over gift.
Meg feels bad for mocking good natured, kind, generous, neighbor.
Then comes the next part...
if you read this post, you'll know what happens net.
That's right. Neighbor gives Meg another gift that is totally weird and has some kind of something wrong with it. Like fleas or something.
Meg graciously accepts gift.
Meg takes photo of gift, so she can blog about it.
Meg hides the gift in the bottom of her trash cans, so Neighbor won't see it when driving past her house on trash day.
The gift? Why don't I show you?
Charlie, let's have a look behind Door #2!
Why it's a moth ball scented leather jacket of your VERY OWN!
....No? YES!Marge told me she noticed how much I'd admired
HER leather jacket, and the next time her son went to volunteer at the thrift store, she had him pick one up for me, too! She admitted to wanting to keep it for herself, but it was too small, and "
how many leather jackets does a woman really need, anyway?"
This kind of leather jacket? Zero, Marge. The answer is zero. Not true. She beamed as she helped me into the jacket (yes. I wore it.) then led me into her garage, where she opened a closet door and
POW! The smell. It was the motherland. The nest.
Behind the closet door were
SIX more STINKY leather jackets. I wanted to shield my face, like actors do when they are protecting themselves from a large explosion behind them.
So proud of her collection, she pulled them out one by one and "let" me try them all on.
I was dying. I tried to refuse the gift. I
HAD to...she would notice that I never wear it.
I couldn't KEEP it...it would stink up my whole house, but what if she asked to see it sometime?
Meg: Oh Marge, these are beautiful (true...some were...they just smelled FREAKING bad) but I just can't accept this. I can't wear leather.
Marge: Oh! Well why not honey?
Meg: Um, it's er...(
just try to be honest, Meg)
well...it's the smell. (true) I am very sensitive to smell. (also true)
Marge: Well isn't that a shame. I just LOVE the smell of leather. She then takes a BIG deep smell of the jacket in her hand. "Mmmmmmm."
uh...I hate to break it to you Marge, but that is NOT the smell of leather you just inhaled. Meg: Yeah, Bummer. Thank you so much for your generous offer. You are very thoughtful. I just can't accept it. I wouldn't ever be able to wear it.
Marge: OH NO. I INSIST. It is too small for me, and I simply don't have room for it in my Leathers Closet. YOU MUST TAKE IT. Just give it to one of your girlfriends, or someone from your church. Certainly there is someone who would love to have something so fancy. And it was only $5! I need to tell the Thrift Store they should charge more for them.
...and on and on she went, until I found myself thanking her leaving her home with the leather jacket.
It smelled so bad it didn't even make it to the trash. I threw it in the garage, closed the door, and ran back to my room to change out of and wash my ruined clothes.
Later that night, Aaron came home from work and went into the garage to turn on the Christmas lights. He came inside gasping for air, asking
WHAT had DIED in our garage, and if I had left one of Quincy's diapers out.
"That smell. Is my Christmas present from Marge." Aaron went back in to the garage to dispose of the jacket and bury it in a trash can with a lid.
"Dang, trash day is on Christmas, we're going to have that thing in there an extra day before we can get rid of it!"I want you to know I sacrificed my lungs to go out to the garage to take a picture. When I opened the lid to the trash I think I released some of it's power. The smell is just as strong as it was a few days ago. Hopefully, it will warm up enough that I can open the garage door and air the place out soon.
I know what you're thinking. I am a terrible person.
Go open a box of moth balls and take a HUGE whiff.
Then smell a dead cow that's been hanging out in a thrift store for 2 months.
Only THEN can you judge me.
Very happy children. Thanks again, Missie!
