Maggots. Lots of Maggots.

Please, for goodness' sake, do not read this if you are squeamish. Just skip to another post, when we were having happier times.

I had a gross experience today at the supermarket.

Before I tell you what happened there, here's a rundown of my afternoon:

I had taken the trash can over to the dump around 4pm and emptied it there. It was really heavy and I had to take everything out piece by piece. It had obviously been too long since we emptied it.

Then Sam and I went over to Old Navy, where they were having 20% off if you say BFF at checkout. You're supposed to bring your BFF, but I only had Sam. Oh well. They gave it to me anyway. By the way, Old Navy is at the mall, which is a tiny little place that has a Panera Bread, Belk, JC Penneys and now a TJ Max!

We walked the mall a while and it was nice. Just Sam and me. We visited the bookstore - where he ran from book to book saying "wow" the whole time. He is so cute. He told me it was time to eat, so I took him to Panera Bread and got him a bagel and cream cheese and split my turkey sandwich with him, along with tomato soup. He loved it, especially dipping the apple into cream cheese.

We had long conversations about how much he loves daddy and about all the cool things at the mall, his trip to Tweetsie this morning and, of course, we talked about cream cheese. Plus, the really neat rubber ball he found at Old Navy under one of the displays while having a little tantrum. It's really a cool ball and they said we could keep it.

After supper, we went to the supermarket.

Are you tracking with me yet? Do you know where I'm going with this?

I went in to get milk and mozz cheese. Of course, I got the wrong milk - I just bought milk for me yesterday, but today needed milk for him. I got more milk for me. Duh. Then I went out to the car, all the while having wonderful conversation with my beautiful son.

I pulled up to the back of the car and opened the tailgate. I opened up the black bag I keep in there to put the groceries in and there were maggots everywhere. Honest to goodness maggots.

I threw it on the ground. I'm getting grossed out just now thinking about it. Sam watched as I had to empty all the maggots from the bag while saying yuck the whole time. Then I turned my attention to the car.

I can't say anymore.

I'm getting grossed out thinking about it.

I just said that. I mean it.

ICK.

Needless to say, the trash can had released its thunder on me. I learned my lesson. Don't wait so long to take the trash to the dump next time. Even if it's not full.

This reminds me of a funny story that happened in China. If you have actually read to this point and you feel like they're all over you, you'll want to stop here. It's about to get worse.

One day, I was cooking in my kitchen with a friend. I was happily teaching him to make smashed potatoes. When I leaned down to open the gas line to our burner, I noticed an odd smell. I asked Tim if he smelled it too, and he did. "Smells like rotting flesh," I believe were his exact words.

I looked around the kitchen, but couldn't find anything odd. About a week later, give or take a few days, I was cleaning my kitchen. Sweeping, mopping...general sanitizing. I moved the gas tank a little (it was up to my hip in height) and saw a few maggots.

"Gross," I thought. So, I swept them up and went on my merry way.

Later, I recounted the story to Bill. To which he replied, "Teesa, if there are maggots, there's rotting flesh." What? No way. Surely there could be maggots without rotting flesh.

I should go back a little bit and give you some back-story. Our kitchen at the end of our dorm hallway. It was very common to walk into the kitchen, flip on the light and see a rat running at you. Very common. Our wonderful American goodies that we had in our cabinets (like chocolate chips and various mixes) were often eaten by these horrid rats. To which we responded, like any normal person, by placing rat poison everywhere.

Back to my story. Are you still with me on this one too? Do you know where I'm going?

Bill walked me into the kitchen and pulled the gas tank out from the wall. There, lying on the floor was...you know exactly what it was. What's your imagination telling you? Do you think it was a dead rat? Well, you're wrong. It wasn't a rat. I guess "technically" it was a rat, but only the sad, dried remnants of what used to be a rat. The flesh had been eaten by maggots.

All that was left was some fur, bones and a horrible tail. Oh, that tail still haunts me. I can still seei it showing from around the tank.

And, do you know how my wonderful husband responded? Did he clean it up and never make me see it again? No.

My brilliant husband did something that only he would have the guts to do. He made me clean it up. He knew that I was going to face my more dead rats while I lived in China, and some that he wouldn't be around for. Anybody have a husband make them do this with spiders? I envy you.

He put it on a dustpan and handed the dustpan to me. He told me, in all seriousness, to take it up to the roof and throw it off the building into the trash pile at the corner (where all of the rats were no doubt procreating and surviving off of the wonderful remnants of other people's garbage).

I cried. I pleaded. I begged. "Please don't make me do this." He calmly explained that I needed to do this while he was there to stand by me, in case he wasn't the next time. He loved me and wanted me to be okay without him. I think I remember him even asking me to do this and I actually agreed.

I was so mad. I took the rat up to the roof, hands shaking all the while, and threw it over the side into the trash pile that was almost half a story high.

And you know what? I survived. And, I learned a valuable lesson that day. Actually, two lessons.

Number 1: If there are maggots, there is rotting flesh somewhere. Look for it and be thorough.
Number 2: Let Bill find the dead rat first.

If you made it to the end, I'm proud of you. Now, go take a shower.