It started with a smell.

"Do you smell that?" I asked my husband who was working in what seemed to be a less-smelly part of the house.

"Smell what?"

"The bad smell." I said, shocked that he couldn't smell the very bad smell that seemed to be getting smellier as the day wore on.

"No," he said. "But you have a better sense of smell than I do."

It was true. I was part wife, part bloodhound. I could smell a bad smell buried under cement, wrapped in titanium, two counties away. The dog had nothing on me. I was the nose queen. So, it was up to me to find the bad smell and dispose of it before it melted the house.

I hunted around the house to find the smelly smell and then stopped at the fridge.

I had found the scene of the crime.

As I slowly opened the refrigerator door, my eyes began to tear up and my eyebrows started to fall out. I quickly slammed it shut, realizing I probably needed something more protective than a T-shirt and a paper mask. So, I ran out of the kitchen and grabbed my hazmat suit and a respirator.

When I returned to the kitchen, I was ready to do battle with whatever former food item or alien species had taken up residence in our fridge. At first glance, there was nothing obviously way past its use-by date. So, then I began sniffing. First, I sniffed the milk because that is usually the first to turn. Then I sniffed my way through various cheeses and yogurts. That's when I noticed the food container on the bottom shelf. It was shoved in the back next to the jar of capers and other things I always buy that never get eaten.

Slowly, nervously, I peeled back the lid of the container — just enough to catch sight of something green and hairy. Upon closer inspection, I saw that it appeared to be the remains of a former meatloaf that had now transformed into a new breed of Hamburger Helper that could walk on two feet and communicate with other forms of ground beef.

This former food item looked like a science experiment gone awry, or perhaps a refrigerated toupee, neither of which is a good look for a meatloaf. I realized it needed to be hermetically sealed and then sent to Elon Musk so he could shoot it into space where it belonged.

After I disposed of the alien meatloaf, I removed every item from the fridge, washed them, and then furiously scrubbed and disinfected the inside of the refrigerator until it shone like the top of the Chrysler Building, I went to my husband to declare that the Great Fridge Stinkification of 2022 had been resolved.

"The bad smell in the refrigerator is gone!" I announced.

He took a whiff of the air.

"Great," he said. "But now what are we going to do about the bad smell on you?"

Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller, "Barking at the Moon: A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble," available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online! You can visit her at www.tracybeckerman.com. To find out more about Tracy Beckerman and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Viki_B at Pixabay