She pushed her hair out of her face, as anxiety formed a ball of irrational fear in her stomach and she scowled at the problem that lay before her under the wood pile, dreading the obvious solution. The smell had festered for weeks until her options grew limited--although she tried to delay the inevitable--and she could stand the sickening sweet odor of decay no longer.

It had to go, that much she knew, but she didn't want to be the one to do it and felt she shouldn't have to.…

Blasting through the chaos, I push the vacuum past the piles of Barbies, straight to the collection of tiny plastic animals scattered across the floor and I smile as little bodies scramble to save their treasures from the sucking beast in my hand while they glare at me, arms laden with Polly Pockets and Littlest Petshop creatures as they head toward the basement to avoid the dreaded onslaught…

Staring at the mess before me I gritted my teeth and did my best not to curse out loud or gather the wretched piece of cloth along with its fucking bendy poles and ‘easy three step assembly’ and toss it into the fire before climbing in my car and going home to civilization, where people lived with walls and water and floors and beds with real mattresses that didn’t have lumps and rocks and…