This has all happened before, and it will all happen again;
but this time it happened behind the oven.
The triplex at Camp Joy, the
humblest of dwellings, is a place we affectionately call…Home. (Well, what
would you call it?) We sleep there, hang
our clothes there, occasionally eat there, and if we’re lucky get to spend free
time there.
Our home has all the modern conveniences of a smart house—the
electric washer, the noiseless dryer, the touch lamp, and a little round radio
on the ceiling over the stove that plays music when I cook—each item with its
own unique qualities adding to the ambiance of a house full of gals. Of course
the décor, wall hangings, pillows, and candles also add something to that effect.
We like it.
But when something smells in our house, there’s only one thing
we appreciate—a candle!
Who can say what goes on in other dwellings, but in ours
candles serve both to create and conceal aromas. Sometimes the troubling smell
is that of the centipedes sucked up into the vacuum. Other times it’s the
vegetable brine brewing in the bottom of the garbage can. Once it was the noxious odor of
something unpleasant dying behind the refrigerator. These things take their
place in triplex history.
Recently, the intense smell that greeted us as we entered
was both familiar and serious, and—this may surprise you—No candles were lit!
The smell was gas leaking from our oven. We decided that we
really didn't mind the smell and preferred to keep our little house.
Thankfully, the local handyman—I mean, one of the camp guys (he’s done much for
us) came over and turned the gas off so we could breath. Since then, we have lived
to tell the story…and burn more candles!
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