Chip and I were both exhausted when we finally pulled up in front of that house, but we were still riding the glow of our honeymoon, and I was so excited as he carried me over the threshold--until the smell nearly knocked us over.
"Oh my word," I said, pinching my nose and trying to hold my breath so I wouldn't gag. "What is that?"
Chip flicked the light switch, and the light didn't come on. He flicked it up and down a few times, then felt his way forward in the darkness and tried another switch.
"The electricity's off," he said. "The girls must've had it shut off when they moved out."
"Didn't you transfer it back into your name?" I asked.
"I guess not. I'm sorry, babe," Chip said.
"Chip, is that ?"
It was the middle of June in Waco, Texas. The temperature had been up over a hundred degrees for days on end, and the humidity was stifling, amplifying whatever that rotten smell was coming from the kitchen. Chip always carries a knife and a flashlight, and it sure came in handy that night. Chip made his way back there and found that the fridge still had a bunch of food left in it, including a bunch of ground beef that had just sat there rotting since whenever the electricity went out.
The food was literally just smoldering in this hundred-degree house. So we went from living in a swanky hotel room on Park Avenue in New York City to this disgusting, humid stink of a place that felt more like the site of a crime scene than a home at this point. Honestly, I hadn't thought it through very well. But it was late, and we were tired, and I just focused on making the most of this awful situation.
So we opened some windows and brought our bags in, and I told Jo we'd just tough it out and sleep on the floor and clean it all up in the morning. That's when she started crying.
I lay down on the floor thinking, That's when another smell hit me. It was in the carpet.
"Chip, did those girls have a dog here?" I asked.
"They had a couple of dogs," he answered. "Why?"
You could smell it. In the carpet. It was nasty. I was just lying there with my head next to some old dog urine stain that had been heated by the Texas summer heat.
It was like microwaved dog pee.
It was. It was awful. It was three in the morning. And I finally said, "Chip, I'm not sleeping in this house.
"Oh my word," I said, pinching my nose and trying to hold my breath so I wouldn't gag. "What is that?"
Chip flicked the light switch, and the light didn't come on. He flicked it up and down a few times, then felt his way forward in the darkness and tried another switch.
"The electricity's off," he said. "The girls must've had it shut off when they moved out."
"Didn't you transfer it back into your name?" I asked.
"I guess not. I'm sorry, babe," Chip said.
"Chip, is that ?"
It was the middle of June in Waco, Texas. The temperature had been up over a hundred degrees for days on end, and the humidity was stifling, amplifying whatever that rotten smell was coming from the kitchen. Chip always carries a knife and a flashlight, and it sure came in handy that night. Chip made his way back there and found that the fridge still had a bunch of food left in it, including a bunch of ground beef that had just sat there rotting since whenever the electricity went out.
The food was literally just smoldering in this hundred-degree house. So we went from living in a swanky hotel room on Park Avenue in New York City to this disgusting, humid stink of a place that felt more like the site of a crime scene than a home at this point. Honestly, I hadn't thought it through very well. But it was late, and we were tired, and I just focused on making the most of this awful situation.
So we opened some windows and brought our bags in, and I told Jo we'd just tough it out and sleep on the floor and clean it all up in the morning. That's when she started crying.
I lay down on the floor thinking, That's when another smell hit me. It was in the carpet.
"Chip, did those girls have a dog here?" I asked.
"They had a couple of dogs," he answered. "Why?"
You could smell it. In the carpet. It was nasty. I was just lying there with my head next to some old dog urine stain that had been heated by the Texas summer heat.
It was like microwaved dog pee.
It was. It was awful. It was three in the morning. And I finally said, "Chip, I'm not sleeping in this house.
( Joanna Gaines )
[ The Magnolia Story ]
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