Petticoat Junction got its first freeze overnight Saturday, which, meant that it was time to harvest my Brussels sprouts. As you may recall, I bitched quite freely about the aphid infestation that descended upon my garden this year, and, as you may also recall, I wasn't sure how that would affect my harvest. I'm quite pleased to inform you that it didn't completely decimate my haul; oh, it reduced it, for sure, but, I got away with more than enough sprouts to last us for awhile (although, Hugh would argue that there can never be enough Brussels sprouts).
I froze the sprouts, suing the same method that I did two years ago, which means that my house now reeks of Brussels sprouts-scented douche. Massengill should totally hit me up for the formula; it's certain to be a best seller.
I have tried to mask the scent by burning my Halloween candle, spraying air freshener freely throughout the house, and simmering cinnamon sticks on the stove top, but, still; the scent lingers. I am thisclose to smudging the house with sage, as one would in order to vanquish an evil spirit.
This is usually the portion of the program wherein I say something along the lines of, "But, on the bright side...", however, this time? Yeah, I got nothing.
Some days, you just gotta live with the stink.
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