As mentioned in my previous post, my husband and I are commuters. We often stop for breakfast and eat it on the way. Might as well make the most of the time, right? Well the other day I had a chocolate milk. I didn’t finish all of it and had about 3oz or so leftover. I forgot to throw it away and it sat in the car for a day or two. So Friday, after dropping Jeremy off at the golf course, I gathered up the trash that has accumulated in our car over the past couple of days, including the milk (or so I thought), and tossed it in the garbage. After which I headed over to my sister’s house to pick up some craft supplies I had let her borrow.
Because I have quite the armful to get out to the car, my sister’s fiance helps me carry out the supplies. While we are there, he notices the lower half of a mannequin I have laying in the back seat of the car. I explain to him that I am painting it for my other sister, Jenn, and proceed to pull it out to show him this (painted on the mannequin’s cooter…I love that word).
I push the mannequin back in to the car, but it gets caught up on something. So I go around to the other side of the car to finish pulling it into place. This is when I notice that it smells like a dead body has decided to join me for the ride home. I look under the mannequin and see what it was caught up on. The milk that I had thought I had thrown away is now all over the back mat of the car. It. Was. Ungodly.
I tried my best to clean it up, but there is no cleaner available in this world that will remove the smell of Satan’s asshole. So with all the window’s cracked I headed back to pick up Jeremy, trying to stifle my gag reflex on the way. As we are heading back to get into the car I tell him, and my father who has joined us at this time, what has happened. We don’t get less than 6 feet from the car and you can smell it. Jeremy and my father started retching, instantly. I can’t blame them. It smells like the inside of a prosthetic leg. (Or so I imagine.) And there is nothing we can do.
Once we have pulled together enough courage, we get into the car and brave the 45 minute commute home. We have all the windows down, despite the noise from traveling on the freeway, and scream back and forth at each other in an attempt to have a conversation. About halfway home, we stop off at Cafe Rio to pick up our standard Friday night dinner. This was a bad idea. The combination of sour milk and fideo smells like hot vomit.
It has taken multiple scrub downs with 409 and a bottle of Febreze to make the smell tolerable. Not gone, just not so pungent. I think it will take a small fire and a cliff to get rid of it entirely.
Filed under: Thoughts in General |