This is not exactly what I had planned to write for my first entry of the new year, but a small note I was going to post on Facebook kinda grew and I found myself rambling and writing a blog instead.
Why I felt the need to share this embarrassing moment is beyond me, but here goes:
As some people already know, I have been having a dreadful time with this terribly nasty smell in my laundry/pantry room since returning from Mom & Dad's for Christmas. I've emptied the trash numerous times, sprayed down the room and the trash can with lysol more than I normally do in a year, I have tried getting to the sides & peeking at the back of the washer/dryer with my big flashlight to see if something was back there ... all to no avail. Finally last weekend I got a concentrated odor remover and a couple of high powered solid air freshners to see if they could help.
I figured something had died in the attic, however, since I have no way of really getting up in there and I would die of aphixiation before my landlord would come check it out, so I decided to battle the odor and pray that it would eventually go away.
Now ... at this point I should probably note that the light in my laundry/pantry has been out since Thanksgiving. I hate climbing the little ladder and getting up there to change the light, so I've procrastinated and it is still out.
Don't judge. I'm sure there's something you've procrastinated on. It's not like I don't know exactly where everything is in there with my eyes closed, anyhow.
Tonight I got a sudden urge (where, I don't know) to clean a few things out of the refrigerator ... this has to be done quickly because a certain small ball of white fluff loves to try and capture the big black plastic bag and rip it to shreds, thus saving me from the evil bag of garbage whilst strewing it around the living room. So, I dragged the trash can with it's diabolical liner black bag out of the laundry/pantry room, where it is kept to keep it from my fierce protector, into the kitchen, positioned it between me and the refrigerator, blocked the ball of fluff and proceeded to remove some offending pre-Christmas items from the fridge.
Again ... don't judge. Procrastination is not a completely bad thing. Think of the advances in science experiments for the young children in your household.
While doing this, I have to admit that the odor was fairly intense, but I figured it was due to the fact I was directly over the offending can, involved in the stinky business of removing some interesting items from the fridge.
Once done, I had to chase the ball of fluff to retrieve the baggie of molded swiss cheese before it caused damage to him and the house. I then went into the laundry/pantry room to get a paper bag, in order to retrieve the trash from the rest of the house. In for a penny, in for a pound, I figured at this point.
Hmmm. I'm in the laundry/pantry room and I immediately notice that the smell is no longer so intense. Turning, I look at the trash can and decide to get the trash out as quick as possible and then spray down everything yet again with lysol.
Chester and I took the trash out and then, because he's a dog, we had to spend a little quality time in the cold.
Coming back into the kitchen, the smell was more than intense ... it was making my eyes water. I hurriedly got the lysol and proceeded to spray the laundry/pantry room, the kitchen and then the can.
It was then that I noticed there was something in the bottom of the can.
Aha! Epiphany. Something had fallen out of the bag at some point, gotten caught in the can and had spoiled. I started to reach in and remove it. Then I halted and looked a little closer.
There, in the bottom of my tall, Rubbermaid trashcan, were four ... count them ... 1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... mice in various stages of decomp. Evidently they had tried to getting to the trash, only go fall between the bag and the can, land in the bottom and ... eventually ... die.
And because there was no light in the laundry/pantry room, I had not noticed when I had removed previous bags of trash.
I had been rejoicing at the fact that we had not seen any signs of the meeces for quite some time and yet I had been frustrated beyond belief by the horrid smell in my laundry/pantry room.
Talk about a catch 22 situation.
No mice because they are DEAD.
Huge smell because they are DEAD.
I'm not sad they are dead.
I am, perhaps, sad about the way they died.
I am, definitely, sad that they died and I didn't catch the clue faster.
Needless to say, the offending can has now gone out to the garage and will now go out with the trash. It's old. It needs to be replaced. And there is absolutely NO FRIGGIN' WAY it will ever come back into my house ... dead meece or no dead meece.
The rooms have been thoroughly sprayed for ... hopefully ... the last time.
My house is swiftly (how embarrassingly amazing) becoming deoderized.
The light bulb has not been changed, however.
Give me a break ... I've had a traumatic time and I'm not going to add climbing onto the small ladder to it. At this point I'd most likely fall and that would simply create another embarrassing situation I'd have to write about for a blog.
I do believe one is enough at this time.
Now ... go ahead ... laugh ... you know you want to.
I have been.