Saturday nights as a child provided for some of the best and most horrific memories. I knew the drill, Church, dinner, and possibly a trip to Target. Normally we would eat at home during the week, but Saturdays were always special. I couldn’t wait for Church to get over in those days, it seemed like it took forever! I knew that as soon as I walked out those Church doors I would be well on my way to devouring some amazing meal (usually KFC). Throughout dinner the mood was always positive and even the trips to Target were happy-go-lucky. However, the real downside to this story begins on the drive home from the night out. I grew anxious in the back seat of the car as I knew what was approaching. It was deadly, it pained me, and it has created a lot of painful memories that I carry with me to this day.
There are only two words to describe the torture and agony that I went through (okay, not real torture, that would be terrible, but think using up the rest of the toilet paper and realizing the new roll is just out of reach, that weird squat walk over to retrieve it is the type of torture I’m talking about). Those two words are Cinnamon Musk.
As soon as the car was parked, my dad would exit the vehicle and immediately step on a few frogs (think about it, haha get it now? Ehh maybe later it will become clearer). I knew that only meant the beginning of the end for my night. The David Copperfield special that was going to air would pale in comparison. If only David could have been there to perform some black magic to help my family out. So we enter the house, and my Dad begins the slow walk up the stairs to the master bedroom. The next sound I hear is Click, the cap was off. Next thing I knew he was spraying Cinnamon air freshener throughout the bedroom, bathroom, hallways, and even the staircase. That is what I called the pre-emptive strike.
After that moment, there was nothing to do but wait. Sometimes 10 minutes, maybe 30 if we were lucky (or unlucky due to the quality that can be produced in 30 minutes). It was almost as if the whole house remained still until my Dad was finished up. Next thing we knew he would come walking down stairs as if nothing had happened, no guilt, no shame, and sometimes laughter. It was cruel and sick. The first wave was always the easiest to spot, my Mom would utter those three words that only meant mass chaos, “O MY GOD.” I knew it was over at that point, there was nothing any of us could do but sit and wait it out. The smell lingered throughout the entire house, nobody could escape it. It was a deadly poison that can only be described as Cinnamon Musk, a gruesome hybrid of cinnamon air freshener and crap.
Ever since those days as a child, I have vowed to never buy cinnamon air freshener. I suggest you all do the same as well.