Eureka... part deux

I promise that this is the last time you'll have to read about my intimate apparel.
Or my bosoms.
For now anyway.

Remember my bra?
My favorite pink bra?
The one I couldn't find...so in order to go to Costco on Monday, I had to settle for an older, less favorite one?
Which is now too big.
I can now use the extra room in the too-big bra cups, to carry small cats around in now.
Thanks to Robynn and her bloody "30 Day Throw Down".

Well.
For the last few days, I have been smelling a nasty smell.
Not the cat pi** smell, but something far riper, and heavy... and grey smelling.

Like dead mouse or possum in the walls or roof.
A very vomit inducing smell.

A combination of rotted, dirty, fungus-riddled feet and 10 year old unwashed boy bum.
Mixed with a whiff of spoiled head cheese.
Very nasty.

So today, I decided to tear the laundry room apart and scrub everything within reach.
Just in case I needed to call one of those men who come and remove dead animals from the attic.

It's bad enough to have rotted animal smells wafting around, but I wanted the poor man to be dazzled with the cleanliness of my laundry room and think that I was an immaculate housekeeper.
Who just happened to have a dead animal in my roof.

Through no fault of my own, of course.

So I scrubbed.
I polished.
I washed shelves and lined them with new paper.
Arranged everything back on said shelves in a very eye-appealing manner.
Suzy Homemaker, am I.

Only the smell still lingered... and by now, it had me dry-retching.
But I was determined to finish the job, so I could go outside and draw in great draughts of fresh air.
So I finished with the walls and shelves, and got down on my hands and knees to scrub the laundry room floor.

Because the opinion of dead-rat removing men is very important to me.

After everything was finished, I opened the washer to throw the used rags inside, for a good soak.

And discovered dead rat in my washing machine.
Big gray lumpy bugger it was, with clouds of greeny-yellow gases of decomposition wafting from it.

Only it wasn't a rat.

Hello, soggy, smelly, definitely moldy bra... and assorted other unmentionables.

I wondered where you had gotten to.

Rather than throw them in the garbage bin, for the neighborhood dogs to find and share around the district, I'm giving them a good soak... in that laundry brightening stuff.

Fingers crossed.


Disclaimer:
Rather than waste my precious holidays washing untold am'ts of laundry, I did one big trip to the laundromat on Tuesday, doing all my towels, bedding, and clothes.
I'm really not all that slovenly.
Honest.