I Did NOT Cry Over Spilled Milk!

Once again, our life has not disappointed in providing humor and fodder for a good blog post. Let’s take a little trip back to Wednesday. I had to go to Atlanta (about a two hour drive) for a doctor’s appointment. The bookends were going with me so I had a little packing up to do of snacks, a change of clothes for G-man, just in case, some books, toys, and movies, and my required three drink minimum that I like to take on trips (Marsh just loves this about me – HA! – ALL the cupholders in our eight passenger vehicle belong to Moi!). It was raining that morning so I decided to wait for the rain to stop before I took said provisions to the big red bus. Now, hang with me for another trip back in time to Monday, I believe it was…(I am sure you are starting to get the drift of where this story is going) We were in search of some misplaced treasure, a common occurrence among my people, so we went to the big, red, traveling storage facility that we also use for transportation. Marsh said “ugh, it stinks in here – it smells like milk. OH, yeah, there are still Starbucks cups in here from last week,” and he proceeded to remove the offending receptacles for liquid happiness and take them to the trash. Now, back to Wednesday morning at T-minus 5 minutes to pulling out of the driveway – a normally acceptable time to start loading up. The tallest man-child of mine was helping get shoes on the smallest man-child and I was taking things to the car. I opened the door and smelled the same offense to my olfactory nerves that I had a few days earlier. I checked again for more long-lost beverage containers or spills in the collection of tiny trash cans I keep in my car (we have some car sickies) – nada. I figured I should check the way-back (otherwise known as the places where things can live unbeknownst to the world for months on end – I mean, there could be another kid back there and I’d never know it!). Maybe a kid had tossed a fast-food bag or something back there because he was convinced that was easier than putting it in the aforementioned tiny trash can right in front of him. I walked the 1/4 mile around my ginormous vehicle and opened the back gate – OH MYLANTA!!!! I found the culprit. Apparently LAST WEEK – A FULL 7 DAYS PRIOR – the fruits of my womb failed to complete their job of bringing in the groceries. There were two heads of cauliflower and two gallons of spoiled milk in the back of my car. One of the gallons had burst. This is an extended length Ford Expedition we are talking about – a lot of real estate back there. Thank the Good Lord above for the people who invented WeatherTech – this is seriously the best investment if you own a vehicle. The cargo liner caught every drop of the ooze. Unfortunately (quite the understatement at this point) all of my cooler bags, reusable shopping bags, three backpacks, three boxes of floodlights (Costco has a good sale right now), an industrial strength ratchet strap, a tire tool, some car part in a box, and a puke bag that G uses as a toy, were all residing back there at the time. Do you remember what time I said it was? I had no option of switching vehicles – the only other one with a car seat, or capability of holding a car seat needed to be used for hauling equipment that day. This had to be dealt with. There was no way we could drive with this all the way to Atlanta and back. Can you imagine the smell?! Can you imagine the slosh?!

I hollered for one of the look-a-likes to come help me. I figured that if he got covered in the stuff he would still be able to take a shower (or four) and cleanse himself. When he sees (and smells) what he is up against, he proceeds to head back in the house.

“Where are you going?!” I so calmly asked (I am sure you don’t believe me – your suspicions would be correct – while I am a recovering yeller, my voice did raise a few decibels here).
“To get a mask,” he replied.
“OH no you aren’t! I need help NOW! I am supposed to be LEAVING right now!” I replied.
“But I will throw up,” he retorted.
“I don’t care,” I said.

He did comply, but slowly. I started chucking stuff out of the back and tried to do that magic trick where you snatch the tablecloth out from under all the dishes with the WeatherTech Cargo Liner. I managed to only get a few drips on the back of the car. There did remain, however, a wet spot on my jeans. I tried to sniff it and couldn’t discern whether or not it was rain water or whey and I wasn’t going to take chances on it being the latter so I went back in to change. With the extra weight I’ve gained since my transplant, pants that fit and are suitable to wear outside my home are scarce these days. The only other nice shirt available that was weather appropriate (I was seriously sweating at this point – I don’t know why I thought changing clothes really mattered) needed ironing. I quickly ran the Rowenta over said shirt, threw on new pants and shoes and went in search of air fresheners and baking soda. I coated the cargo area in baking soda and tossed one of those ridiculous Christmas tree type air fresheners (teenage boys seem to think these are cool) back there – I was desperate – and a new Bath and Body Works one in my bejeweled Dachshund smelly thing holder (I try to maintain a bit of femininity) up front. Amazingly we were within a 15 minute running late window.

The smell didn’t really dissipate during the day, and we were unable to roll down the windows because of the rain and the Georgia humidity in November. The Tall One had many complaints – thankfully he was distracted by talk radio – he loves it – I often have to tell him to turn it off when he is supposed to be doing school. At one point in our trip I was told by the G-man that it smelled like donkey farts in our car (I wondered where he learned that turn of phrase!) I just prayed that our clothes weren’t soaking up this smell. The doctor’s appointment went well and I thought the drama had died down until we pulled into the Starbucks drive thru. G knows the menu here – he totally rats me out about how often we end up here. As seems to be the case in most Atlanta Starbucks – it was squeezed in the worst possible location for a drive-thru. Another SUV and I were facing each other as the next two about to pull into the line. He was blocking the drive from the main road into the parking lot and I was in the parking lot blocking one little section of spaces. A lady pulls out of her space is rather frustrated with me for blocking her exit. After quite the choreography of movements she realized that she could simply back up and go the other direction and around me to leave. Other guy and I remained calm and waited patiently as other cars went around us. After a few minutes we eased into the line. I was pretty thirsty at this point (even though I take all those beverages with me I don’t always drink them all – I am just prepared in case I make a detour into a desert). I had a sparkling water that I thought I would take a guzzle from before I subjected my kidneys to more caffeine. As I unscrewed the lid, foam began to spew like Old Faithful. No one would fess up to shaking it. I was covered. I looked like I had peed my pants and then some. And no, I did not pack a change of clothes for myself. I tried to find as many napkins as I could to mop things up. (Again, thank you WeatherTech! The Floor Liners saved my carpet from this mini-disaster as well!) I ran up on the curb a couple of times in trying to dry myself and navigate this drive thru that seemed to be designed for Vespas. When I got to the window, I explained my situation to the nice barista and she gave me a stack of napkins thicker than a copy of War and Peace. I pulled into a parking spot and attempted to squeeze more liquid out of my clothes and exchange the stack of napkins I was sitting on for another. The Tall One could hardly contain himself with laughter. G was oblivious in the back talking about how yummy his peppermint hot chocolate was. I turned on the seat heater and then compensated with the air on full blast for the ride home. I went to take a sip of my Chestnut Praline Latte and sloshed some on myself – good grief! I still had to stop and pick up milk on the way home (can you guess why we ran out so quickly this week?) – thank goodness for contactless pick up these days! My grocery deliverer was none the wiser. I was still wet when I got home 2 and a half hours later. I assume at this point I smelled something like a long lost burp rag mixed with berries mixed with coffee. I changed as soon as I got in the house.

The next day it rained so the smell still percolated inside my car. All the things were still strewn all over my yard and porch – I didn’t care. I hoped the rain would wash some of the smell away. It didn’t. I took the three backpacks and the reusable shopping bags and shoved them into the Speed Queen (if you are not a member of the Speed Queen cult we can cure that on another day), put lots of glugs of Tide in, set it for an extra rinse, and turned her on. The rain stopped and I let the car air out for several hours. The wash didn’t help the smelly bags – I am going to have to pitch most of them. I will however soak my Mercier bag because it gets me 10% off apples when we go up there. I did throw away one backpack that didn’t survive the wash well and have another soaking in my tub as I type in some kind of “OxiClean with odor busters” detergent. I haven’t approached the cooler bags. I think I will just admit defeat on them and buy some more at Costco. The boxes of lightbulbs were soaked with grossness – I mean, seriously! How much liquid did this gallon of milk actually hold?! I think the fermentation process tripled it! I didn’t dare bring the boxes in the house, but couldn’t bring myself to throw away perfectly good light bulbs. I brought them in by themselves but quickly realized they stunk too. We have some Clorox wipes that I’ve been hoarding since pre-Covid days before they were being sold on the blackmarket. I felt like this deserved one of these sheets of gold. Thankfully that seemed to work and it shouldn’t smell like I have Zombie Skittles (yes, we survived those) in a wax warmer when I turn on my lights.

Today is Friday – the backpack is still soaking. There is still junk in the yard. I feel sorry for whoever is taking the trash to the dump this week. I am still deciding whether or not there is anything left worth salvaging. I don’t know if Marsh will be able to part with his beloved ratchet strap, but I think he will probably give it a good ride in the back of his truck for a year or so before he uses it again. But you want to know the true miracle of this whole debacle? (Aside from the obvious witchcraft and magical powers of the Weathertech Cargo Liner? The fact that I didn’t lose my cool over this. Now, that could be helped by some of the meds I’m on – in fact, I know that helps. But truly, God has done some major work in my heart over the past few years. I am recovering from my shameful yelling habit and am able to have more self-control these days. Part of that is that I don’t have the energy to get too fired up, but also I know what is most important. It is tremendously more important to not unduly injure my relationship with my children over something trivial. I guarantee you that in my pre-cancer days I would have been stark raving mad – perhaps to the point of tears, and would have given quite the tongue lashing over this misstep. My blood pressure would have suffered and it would have taken me awhile to calm down. The whole water spewing incident would have done the same. But thanks be to God and His mercies – we were able to get a LOT of good laughs out of this and I know this will be one of those stories, like the “burnt waffles rattlesnake”, that my kids tell for years to come. Because of God’s abundant grace in my life through cancer, I am now able to literally not cry over spilled, and spoiled, milk 🙂