I climbed into my car at way-too-early o'clock so that I could get to work. Something smelled . . . not good. I live with a 5-year old girl, a grown man, two dogs, and three cats, though, so "not good" is pretty much code for "better than usual."
I didn't think much of it.
Later I went to go climb into my car again, this time to run out and grab something for lunch. As I pulled the door open, that something "not good" jumped out of the car, tackled me, and punched me in the face over and over again. "Not good" had definitely been replaced by "OMG! It's like a fart, a dirty diaper, and an armadillo got into a fight in here and THEY ALL DIED."
It was time to find the source of the odor. Which, Alexis rides in my car 99% of the time. The list of possibile sources read like an FBI informant list. It was long, complicated, and possibly classified.
The problem is that Alexis is a hoarder. We've covered this before, but I can tell you her hoarding is magnified within the confines of that car. The kid looooooooves backpacks. And tote bags. And purses. And pretty much anything that can somehow be used to house all of the crap that she feels is essential to life. At any given point in time, I can find a used napkin, 14 of the kid's most magnificent drawings, a gum wrapper, six toys, three books, Barbie's left shoe, Ken's pants, an unidentifiable (but VERY important!) hunk of plastic, and heaven knows what else in any one of the kid's 1053092353 backpacks/tote bags/purses. Multiply that by the volume of bags and such that she has, and she truly has a magnificent supply of crap. She loves to take it ALL out to my car and then leave it in there.
Even though it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, I had to find the source of the odor.
I started with her car seat. While I found enough food to make a fancy casserole for dinner, I didn't find the source of the odor. Unless, of course, Goldfish crackers have started passing gas. In which case, well, we're all in trouble. I started checking the floorboard in front of her seat.
And I saw it.
I instantly flashed back to Saturday when I took Alexis to the mall. She had asked for Subway for lunch, so I had gotten her a quick kids meal. It seemed like a genius idea at the time, but when we went to pay, the cashier took her sandwich, apple slices, and milk and placed them inside a little Lion King tote bag. As the cashier closed the velcro to lock up the meal nice and tight, I glared at him. I know it's not his fault that Subway has decided to give little tote bags in place of toys with their kids meals, but DOESN'T HE UNDERSTAND MY KID HAS A PROBLEM? I viewed that cashier as a drug dealer and there he was handing over tote bag crack to the kid.
GRRRR.
I was right that the tote bag was a no-good-very-bad idea. I wasn't sure what I would find when I opened it, but SURELY something had crawled inside and died. An entire family of stink bugs? A honey badger? A diaper? Never mind that Alexis has been out of diapers for well over two years. Those things could easily grow legs and hide somewhere if they wanted to.
I carefully poked at the bag as I hid my face in my shirt sleeve. The odor was . . . amazing. I mean "amazing" in the same way that Britney Spears extensions sometimes make it look like a rat made a nest on her head. So, uh, NOT GOOD.
And then I saw it. The bottle of milk.
Hey, so, if you leave a bottle of milk in the car for four days? It'll explode! Didja know that? Yeah? SO WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?
The inside of that bag looked like a bowl of cottage cheese had thrown up in it. The milk had separated and curdled and WOW it's amazing what a few days of 85 degrees can do to a few ounces of milk. I have never seen such a disgusting pile of goo accumulated in one place, AND I'M A MOTHER. Goo is my middle name!
Ten minutes later, the offending bag containing what used to be milk had been destroyed. The odor, however, still lingers.
So, anybody in the market for a slightly used Nissan Rogue? I'll throw in a can of air freshener for free!
