Smells Like Teen Armpits

Spring has arrived and so has our mulch, which Beloved has been enthusiastically spreading for the past several days. The first day he performed this yearly chore, the kids went outside to be dragged around by walk the dog and stopped dead in their tracks.

“It smells like ass out here,” Darling Daughter declared. We’d have asked her how she knows what ass smells like, but since she has her head stuck so far up her own it really wasn’t necessary. (You have to understand I love this kid to death, but if she doesn’t get her shit together soon I’m going to have to kill her.)

However, she isn’t that far off – the stuff is fragrant. And the simile has stuck; while running our errands this morning, we stopped by the discount store and picked up 10 more bags of what The Young One now refers to as “Ass Mulch.” Now none of us can stop calling it that – our grandchildren are probably going to refer to Spring as “Ass Mulch Season” and we’ll all end up explaining ourselves to a school psychologist some day.

Of course, the entire town smells like ass these days (since it is that time of year) and that made me think about those people who are of a green and/or money saving disposition and make their own compost and mulch. The “why” part of that is understandable, but I have a real problem with the “how??” Where do you put it while it’s getting all, well, ripe? I can’t see keeping it in the house or garage, so do you just, like, keep a big pile of slowly decomposing crap in the back yard? Wouldn’t that cause your neighbors to complain and lower your property values? How would you keep the dog from jumping in it and rolling around every time you let him out to do his part in the lawn fertilization process?

Do you fence it off and post large “Beware of Mulch” signs? Go all Martha Stewart and construct a camouflaging-yet-decorative container out of old, flowered-patterned sheets and wire coat hangers? I suppose you could pack it away neatly in some of those 30-gallon plastic leaf bags, but it seems to me that would hinder the decomposition and render the attempt to be “green” rather pointless. Not to mention that once it was bagged, your teenage son would probably take the whole kit-and-kaboodle to the curb on trash day for the first – and only – time in his life without being asked.

You see, these are the kinds of things that keep us city-raised-but-moved-to-a-small-town-girls up at night.

6 thoughts on “Smells Like Teen Armpits”

  1. I have NO enthusiasm for ass mulch! And it’s hell to get the stink from beneath your finger nails!

  2. Funny you should post this, I actually made my own compost accidently. Where I live, they do not allow you to put grass clippings in plastic bags. You either have to rent one of those green garbage bins or buy the paper bags from Home Depot.

    Well I hired a Lawn Service and they would rack up the grass clippings and the leaves and put them in the 30 gallon plastic bags and leave them on the curb. A big NO-NO in my neighborhood. I took them and put them on the side of my house, but you know that old saying “out-of-sight, out-of-mind?” well there’s a reason they say that. After sitting there for about two years, my neighbor decided to replace the fence on that side and his dog got into the bags. Some one told the city, who immediately red-tagged me and told me to clean it up.

    When I went to put them in the trash, the were too heavy and the bag broke, but the most perfect compost came out the bottom of the bag. I just decided to spread it over the ground. What I didn’t understand was where did the corn cobs come from. There was about 3 corn cobs in one of the bags. Since you know I don’t cook, I can’t figure where they came from.

    I told Kayla that it looked like the day after a really good drinking party when you are paying respect to the porcelain God and then wonder “when did I eat corn?”

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