Two weekends ago I was pulling weeds and didn’t have the yard waste bin nearby so I just piled them into a convenient bucket.
I then forgot about said bucket. It rained.
Last weekend, my sister said something smelled like a barn. She was right. But only if you stood in a very specific spot on my deck. A spot that, it turns out, was directly downwind of that weed and water filled bucket.
Yesterday I stood directly next to that bucket and discovered The Smell. Whatever plant those weeds are, they stank worse than almost any other thing I’ve ever smelled. And I used to muck out barns and pigsties.
Anyway, I dumped out the water, the smell got worse. But whatever. It had to be done.
Today… today, I’m just standing in the kitchen, making a salad, and suddenly it smells like death around me. Like some animal died in my kitchen. I hadn’t moved. Hadn’t opened any doors. One minute everything’s fine, the next I’m nearly gagging on the stench.
I step away and the smell follows me. Is it me? Did I step in something and the smell was just now reaching my nose? I seriously consider stripping down and throwing my clothes directly in the wash.
Then I look down and see the sweet, innocent, adorable face of my younger Australian shepherd. On instinct I grab his little snout and sniff his fur.
The little bastard found the spot I dumped the bucket and rolled in it. Apparently the stench had soaked into the dirt.
So out comes the deodorizer spray. Sarge does not care for the spray, but it’s that or another bath. He no longer smells like death but he does smell overwhelmingly of pink grapefruit.