A Beautiful Campfire.

Its snowing here again today. We have gotten about 3 inches of the fresh white stuff in the last two days. Not having a television doesn't help. Both days--I was running behind for work, and as I open the door to the outside, I realize that my car is buried. Great. I really miss the days of summer--as I am sure you all do as well. The sweet smell of fresh cut grass. The beauty of the sun's rays hitting a sparkling blue Minnesota lake. The sounds of neighborhood children playing outside in the warmth of the sun. Most of all, the rustic smells and sounds that accompany a roaring campfire. Summer Favorites.

Now that I have your attention, and have placed visuals in your head...I want to tell you that the beautiful smells of a campfire, can only be enjoyed in the summer.

What do I mean by that--you must be asking yourself.

Well... here at the "Historic" Crouch House, the smells of a campfire are not so pleasant.

And so the story begins...

It all began a few nights ago. I was down in the kitchen making a gourmet meal of microwaved proportions, when the owner of the house came up behind me. He had placed himself in an awkward spot standing behind me, trying to converse. We have a short dialog, in which he asks me what I am making for dinner, and responds to my answer with a long drawn out, "YYYYUUUUMMMMMMMMMYYYYY!!!" (Awkward) I just smile and think bad things about him in my head. He then asks if I have ever been to the Dairy Barn. (The Dairy Barn is a small hole in the wall restaurant. I am pretty sure they have more cockroaches than they do patrons.) I tell him, No--I have never been there. He lets me know they have good desserts, and he wants to take me. He says that, He will come and knock on my door around 7:30 and we will go, "Me and him." I don't say much, just walk away and try to come up with excuses as to why I can't accompany this creeper to the restaurant.

I sit in my room, getting more and more nervous. The guy is way too overly nice. I have a weird feeling, and don't want to go. He will surely try to kill me. However, my Midwest up-bringing forbids me from being mean--so I decide that i can't get out of it. (If only I could have claimed Lactose Intolerance, but I was making Mac & Cheese. --Clearly, not Lactose Intolerant.)

I devise a plan, and practice my self-defense moves on imaginary attackers.

I am going to take an empty binder, fill it with random papers I have laying around. I am going to drive separate and tell him that, I have to stop at a friends house afterword to study policies for work. This plan works perfectly. He seems a little irritated that I am not riding with him, but I don't care--There is no way I am going to let them create a made for TV movie about my death--no way would I give him 15 minutes of fame.

This story might seem like it is going nowhere, but trust me it is.

We arrive at the restaurant, we go in, and he asks for a menu. I am a little perplexed by this--I thought we were only  here for a quick ice cream? How could you possibly need a menu? Pick an ice cream flavor, and eat it out of a cone. Its not Rocket Science.

He ends up ordering a FULL meal, complete with appetizer and dessert. No Joke.
I get an ice cream cone--and have to sit there the entire time he eats his meal--talk about awkward and boring. This guy is so creepy.

During the random dinner conversation--he tells me that he will be adding a wood burning stove to the house in order to "make it look authentic." He raves about how wonderful the house will smell, how great the crackling fire will be. And at first, I admit it sounded great.

Fast forward to last night. He got the stove put in, and started burning wood. However, he failed to properly vent the stove at first. This is awesome. My room is filling with smoke, so much so that my eyes are burning--and I am freaking out over the fact that there is probably carbon dioxide swirling about my orifices. This will surely lead to my death--rather than kill me at the diner, he is going to kill me with the poor ventilation. Carbon Dioxide is the silent killer you know. Around 11pm he finally gets it vented. I can finally sleep, without the threat of death circling in my room.

Remember that wonderful campfire smell? Perhaps you remember what your clothes smell like, after you have been sitting around a campfire?

Well, let me just tell you--that when you use a wood burning stove in your West Virginia home, ALL of your clothes will smell wonderfully of campfire. Yep. Didn't you know that campfire was the new trendy smell? Its always nice to wash your clothes and then have them smell as if you have been at a campfire.

If you can't detect the sarcasm, I will just let you know that-- IT IS HORRIBLE!

No matter how much perfume and deodorant you douse yourself in, you will still smell like a campfire.

The good news is, that i am still alive and kicking.

4 days and counting.