Something is burning

Husband is my rock. He's the practical, sane one. He's the Ying to my Yang and all that other mushy shit. But sometimes the man does amazing things that make me wonder about him.

For example, I woke up this morning in Jude's bed, after a night of musical beds with the kid. I woke up to the smell of something burning. As first, I dismissed it, thinking it was burning toast or Spam. Yes, Husband likes to fry Spam on a regular basis. I often leave my apartment smelling of fried pork product. I'm sure Anthony Bourdain would find my aroma irresistible. I'm sure of it. Moving on. So, this morning the smell of burning something penetrated my nostrils like a shot of Afrin nose spray. My self preservation mode kicked in, and the burning smell actually woke me up. So, first I was pissed off that I was awake at 5:15 AM, after a night of musical beds with Jude. Second, I was confused and perplexed by the burning smell. It wasn't the fried pork smell. I know that smell. I know that smell well! I can sleep through THAT smell. No, this smell was different. It smelled like real burning something.

So, I got up to investigate. I walked through the hall, and the smell overwhelmed me. It was thick- so thick I could taste it. I saw Husband standing in the kitchen, washing dishes, and the vent fan above the stove was on. Here is what was said:

Weenie: "What's that burning smell?"

Husband: "Oh that, I was cleaning the grill, and I think it got too hot."

Weenie: "You were cleaning the grill?"

Husband: "Yea, it was dirty from last night."

After this conversation, I walked way for fear of choking the man to death. Seriously, does the effing grill need to be cleaned at 5 fucking AM? Is it necessary to remove all the chunky, congealed meat juices at 5 AM? Can't that wait until later?! WHAT THE HELL! Look, I love my husband, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I wonder about the man!

And since I have asthma, burning things usually make my symptoms worse. Almost every morning after the frying of the Spam, I'm forced to use my inhaler. It's like microscopic, fried pork pieces float through the air, coating my bronchial tubes, suffocating me. I have that same feeling now. Except it isn't fried pork, instead, it's grilled beef bits aggravating my asthma.

(Sigh!)

So, consider this Husband's 407th attempt on my life.

(Another sigh, through wheezy, whistling lungs!)

Just another morning in Weenie's World!