Day 61
I’ve spent the day relegated to the bedroom.
And the reason for my temporary displaced living accommodation?
Small Child.
Sometime during the day it had obviously been fed (I dread to think with what) and then did its usual trick…brought it all back up again. But this time it was different.
I’ve never seen anything like it; more specifically I’ve never smelt anything like it.
It permeated the entire house and nothing could get rid of it. I sprayed an entire bottle of very expensive aftershave around the offending area but it still ate through, two cans of air freshener failed to put a dent in it and even a well-timed fart from the cat didn’t make a difference
Baby vomit is, without question, the worst smell in the World…with the possible exception of the mother-in-law’s soiled socks.
It evoked childhood memories of school.
School meals weren’t ever the pinnacle of culinary delight but every now and again a really bad one would be served that produced an unfortunate reaction.
With close observation you knew what was going to happen so had a brief timeframe in which to run as quickly as possible from the area.
It usually started with a child swallowing a mouthful of food and immediately realizing it was a very bad move.
A slight puffing and twitching of the cheeks would be followed by the sound of chair legs scraping back on the dining room floor as the child stood up. Those remaining at the same table concentrating on their meal would then be unfortunate enough to be directly in the line of fire as…
Wooosssshhhhh!
When one child threw up it had a domino effect on several of the others and before you knew it the room looked like the seventh circle of hell.
This was not a scene I wanted to see repeated on a smaller basis in the house so I figured the best thing to do was shut myself in the bedroom with all the windows open.
I even ate my dinner there.
Women, however, seem to be immune to anything that’s emitted from the interior of a baby, they wipe the sick out of their hair (or wherever it is the child has chucked) and carry on as though nothing has happened.
So why is it that the wife slaps me round the legs and reacts like she’s sat in an open sewer when I drop even the mildest of farts?
Anyway, after a couple of hours I heard mother-in-law come home and strike up a conversation with Mrs. Snowman and Surrogate Daughter. She made some comforting baby noises before asking the question.
“Awwww, what’s wrong with the poor little thing?”
Even though I’m not medically qualified to answer that one I bit my lip and kept silent, although my best guess would be that it’s got some numbers written on the back of its fucking head.
I can only assume that after several months of this, I too will become accustomed to such odors even though they will doubtless remain embedded in my clothing. As always, there is a positive spin on this.
People will undoubtedly move away from me in confined spaces but I’d be certain to get to the bar quickly in crowded pubs.
During my time in the bedroom, and thanks to the recently installed wireless Internet connection, I played two freerolls today.
10,000 players in each tournament meant that I had to play incredibly well to get anywhere near the money so you won’t be surprised to hear I didn’t make any. I got to the top 700 in the first one and the top 400 in the other. I shall try and do better tomorrow.
Hopefully, the smell will have disappeared by the morning so that I can venture back downstairs again which will leave me with no further excuses to re-start the decorating. I never thought I’d hear myself say it, but I’m quite looking forward to locking myself in a sealed room with paint fumes and wallpaper paste.
I intend to drag out the work until at least September…next year.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0
And the reason for my temporary displaced living accommodation?
Small Child.
Sometime during the day it had obviously been fed (I dread to think with what) and then did its usual trick…brought it all back up again. But this time it was different.
I’ve never seen anything like it; more specifically I’ve never smelt anything like it.
It permeated the entire house and nothing could get rid of it. I sprayed an entire bottle of very expensive aftershave around the offending area but it still ate through, two cans of air freshener failed to put a dent in it and even a well-timed fart from the cat didn’t make a difference
Baby vomit is, without question, the worst smell in the World…with the possible exception of the mother-in-law’s soiled socks.
It evoked childhood memories of school.
School meals weren’t ever the pinnacle of culinary delight but every now and again a really bad one would be served that produced an unfortunate reaction.
With close observation you knew what was going to happen so had a brief timeframe in which to run as quickly as possible from the area.
It usually started with a child swallowing a mouthful of food and immediately realizing it was a very bad move.
A slight puffing and twitching of the cheeks would be followed by the sound of chair legs scraping back on the dining room floor as the child stood up. Those remaining at the same table concentrating on their meal would then be unfortunate enough to be directly in the line of fire as…
Wooosssshhhhh!
When one child threw up it had a domino effect on several of the others and before you knew it the room looked like the seventh circle of hell.
This was not a scene I wanted to see repeated on a smaller basis in the house so I figured the best thing to do was shut myself in the bedroom with all the windows open.
I even ate my dinner there.
Women, however, seem to be immune to anything that’s emitted from the interior of a baby, they wipe the sick out of their hair (or wherever it is the child has chucked) and carry on as though nothing has happened.
So why is it that the wife slaps me round the legs and reacts like she’s sat in an open sewer when I drop even the mildest of farts?
Anyway, after a couple of hours I heard mother-in-law come home and strike up a conversation with Mrs. Snowman and Surrogate Daughter. She made some comforting baby noises before asking the question.
“Awwww, what’s wrong with the poor little thing?”
Even though I’m not medically qualified to answer that one I bit my lip and kept silent, although my best guess would be that it’s got some numbers written on the back of its fucking head.
I can only assume that after several months of this, I too will become accustomed to such odors even though they will doubtless remain embedded in my clothing. As always, there is a positive spin on this.
People will undoubtedly move away from me in confined spaces but I’d be certain to get to the bar quickly in crowded pubs.
During my time in the bedroom, and thanks to the recently installed wireless Internet connection, I played two freerolls today.
10,000 players in each tournament meant that I had to play incredibly well to get anywhere near the money so you won’t be surprised to hear I didn’t make any. I got to the top 700 in the first one and the top 400 in the other. I shall try and do better tomorrow.
Hopefully, the smell will have disappeared by the morning so that I can venture back downstairs again which will leave me with no further excuses to re-start the decorating. I never thought I’d hear myself say it, but I’m quite looking forward to locking myself in a sealed room with paint fumes and wallpaper paste.
I intend to drag out the work until at least September…next year.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0