Call me “Lord of the Flies.” Or rather, call me “Lord of the Freezer Flies.” But before you go getting all theological on me and start freaking out because you think I’ve just admitted to being Beelzebub, allow me to ‘splain. No. There’s not time for that. Let me sum up…
I made a horrifying discovery on Saturday when I realized that a few of our electrical outlets had stopped working. In the process of trying to discover the source of the problem, I had flipped a few breakers, and was now in the garage testing the outlet with an electric saw. (Insert scary music here.) No, no, that’s not the scary part…I think I’m steering you in the wrong direction, here.
The saw didn’t work. But it was because of the “GCI” outlet that had been tripped. One touch of the little button in the middle of the thing and suddenly it was working again. And the electrical hum that followed revealed that the …freezer…was…now ….working …again… “uh-oh.”
“Has the freezer been off only since I flipped the breaker switches, or has it been off for longer?” I wondered.
I lifted the lid to the freezer and no longer had to wonder. I only had to keep from passing out.
Without a doubt, this was the most ungodly smell my poor little nose has ever encountered. The freezer had obviously been off for days.
Now something that I haven’t mentioned up to this point is what was in the freezer.
It was a dead body! (Insert loud, scary music here.)
No, no, no. Not really. I’m just kidding. Relax. But honestly, from the smell emanating from that freezer, it certainly could have been.
Actually, the majority of the contents of our freezer was given to us by family members. And the majority of that was “sliced squash” and packages of “chicken gizzards and hearts.” (Sorry – too long of a story to explain that. Maybe some other time.)
Now these items have been in our freezer for some time because we’re really not that fond of squash, and we are not even remotely fond of “chicken gizzards and hearts.” This sentiment is even more profoundly engrained in me after this day.
Thawed and rotting “chicken gizzards and hearts” floating in a pool of “squash sauce” is a smell that I’ll not soon forget. It was, as I used to say in High School, “enough to gag a maggot in a meat wagon.”
And adding to the horror, the lid to the freezer wasn’t open 30 seconds before it was swarming with flies. (More scary music, now…)
My son, Matthew and I, holding our breath in intervals, managed to empty the contents of the freezer into garbage bags, drain the vile “gizzard squash soup” down the driveway and into the sewer, then hose down and disinfect the “Freezer from the Black Lagoon.” We were dodging flies the entire time.
It took washing four times and a shower before the smell was no longer noticeable on my hands.
But there is a bright side to this dismal tale.
My future no longer has the worrisome possibility of someday having so little food available that I might actually have to consider eating the “chicken gizzards and hearts.” (Although Matthew was a little bummed out that we had to throw them out – they make great fish bait.)
And what exactly is a “gizzard,” anyway?
I think I know enough now to know that I don’t really want to know…