On Grossness

One of my job's perks is that I don't have an office. I can work in Edinburgh. I can work in Nashville. I could even work in Paris. (I'm working on that one. Please Matt! Next summer!) I also don't slave in a cubicle. Nor do I have to tolerate fluorescent lights or a co-worker interrupting my work flow.

I really like non-interrupted work flow. One of my colleagues even commented on how she could accomplish so much more if she lived in Scotland. Possibly so. However, today my work flow was interrupted.

No one should ever smell what I have smelled today. You see, an ominious odor began several days ago in my parent's home. Tuesday I walked in the door and after being assaulted by the odor I declared that we must find the obnoxious source and rid ourselves of it.

We put my sniffer to work. Is the odor coming from the refrigerator? No. The pantry? No. The second refrigerator? No. Under the sink? No. Upstairs. Downstairs. Attic. Bathrooms. No. No. No.

What could this obnoxious odor be? And where the heck could it be coming from??? We turned over every pot and pan in the house looking for the suspect. And it was not to be found.

Until ....

It then occurred to us that the rotting smell was getting worse, and that we were also smelling it all over the house. The obnoxious odor had moved beyond the garage/kitchen area. My mom even woke up in the middle of the night to grab Ralph Lauren Romance perfume and spray the bed down in hopes that she could peacefully drift back to sleep despite this horrid smell.

One word: yuck.

Like any good son-in-law, Matthew breaks the news to my mom. "Something has died and it's under your house." And like any good mother, my mom responds with: "I have a coupon for that." Yes -- my mother even had a coupon for a pest control company to remove dead things from crawlspaces. Too bad the pest control company couldn't even come to give an estimate until next Wednesday. NEXT FREAKIN' WEDNESDAY. It's Thursday!!! Can you even begin to imagine the odor at that point?? In this 90 degree heat!?!!?!!

Like a superb son-in-law, Matt decides to tackle the crawlspace and see what died. He calls me to the opening of the crawlspace, directs the flash light to a far corner and says "does that look like an upside down cat?" (Gag. Dry heave. Almost vomit.) "Maybe." And I run. I can't handle the smell. Can't handle the possibility that a living thing died. Can't handle what other creatures had probably been doing to the dead animal. (Think maggots).

Thankfully dad returned from his run just in time to find surgical masks for Matt and him to wear as they went to rid the crawlspace of the dead cat. Turns out that the dead cat is a neighborhood cat named Frankie that dad frequently saw running around out back of the house. It appears that poor Frankie was attacked by a dog and found his way into my parent's crawlspace to die. Lovely thoughts aren't they?

RIP Frankie. And thank God for fabulous, smell-good candles that can help me defend the household from obnoxious invaders. Most of all, many thanks to our brave men for ridding our crawlspace from smelly trespassers.