No, this entry was influenced less by inspiration and creativity than a sleepless night full of evil intent for not only the slight sliver i call my sanity, but for my shmeller.
Yes, my shmeller. That lovely device that allows you to experience harmonious fragrances as well as tastes. It's that same device that is being abused with nauseating vapors radiating from the dark side of my child's anatomy.
It's that time.
When my brother stays over for the weekend for the shorter commute to work, stirring up all sorts of unearthed anxieties within the Finnster. As a result: Finn has vomited four times in the past two days and is now left with an immensely thick, unmeasurable amount of gas.
I had thought to myself earlier when my brother and I arrived late from work, as per the usual with events, that something smelled off to me. Perhaps my feet were smelling unusually rank tonight or Keith, who had just gotten out of a shower, somehow completely skipped the hygiene part of the cleaning process and came out smelling like the raw side of a donkey. Okay, both very likely, but I knew this foul odor. In the recent months it has been both an unfortunate occurrence and an unwelcome guest.
Which is why when I finally recognized the noxious fumes, I said to no one in particular " I smell Finn fart."
In return Keith asked me what i had muttered, as he had been playing on his iPhone and hadn't quite caught the statement. So I repeated myself causing an impromptu snort and a "You're crazy."
Said the boy with no nose.
Still, no nose convinced me and I easily shrugged it off. Until a little while before I decided to entail all these incredible details here, when I entered my room for sleep...
...and promptly hit a wall. Of stink.
Sure, I grabbed some spray, masked the smell a bit only to morph it in to a wonderful fragrance they don't sell on shelves, but everyone knows all too well: poop flowers.
I also went out of my way to inspect the crate thoroughly, just to make sure Finn hadn't accidentally dropped one when he hit that last baritone note. Luckily, all was clear. Well...except for the air.
Which leaves me where I'm at now: Full of poop-flower up my shmeller and blogging for the sake of fresh air.
Ah, he's a casual gasser most of the time. Finn's awesome like that. He doesn't care who's watching or listening, he just lets em rip.
But when he's a nervous gasser....
...world: be afraid.
And fittingly as I end this entry, the furry cuteness lets another bomb loose.
Be there no end in sight?
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