When I went to our “closet” the other day, I got a whiff that distressed my nose. First, let me define “closet” as used by RV manufacturers. Just inside our front (and only) exterior door, is a shallow (6 inch deep) compartment with controls for our sliders, power awning, fantastic fan ventilation system, A/C, propane furnace, water heater, etc. at the top. There are 2 coat hooks on the back wall below the controls, the bottom (which is at roughly hip height) serves as a shelf, and there’s a door that closes to keep it all out of view. We use this closet to store our jackets, dog walking supplies (leash, collar, tennis balls, poo bags, water bottles, flashlight, etc.), and all those things that in a sticks-and-bricks house would be left in a pile on the kitchen counter near the door. One never knows what one will find in the closet.
Being one who never quite trusts her own nose, I called Everett over to analyze the situation; “Do you smell poo?”
“Oh crap,” he shouted (I don’t believe it was intentional word play, but it could have been), “Have we got a leak in the sewer system?!?!?!” Everett, as I’m sure you recall, is one of those people who always leaps first to the most catastrophic explanation for any oddity. I blame his mother for having frequently sung him to sleep with the lovely lullaby “When in trouble, when in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout.”
Many hours later, not having found any sewage leaks, and after having removed every last item from the closet and piling them on the picnic table outside, we could no longer smell the odor. Ah ha! Something that had been in the closet must be the culprit. We went through everything, sniffing each item carefully. The tube of tennis balls didn’t smell good (have you ever sniffed new tennis balls? ick), and the dog’s wet-foot towel went into the laundry, but these were not the odor we sought. One by one, we eliminated items and put them back in the closet. Finally we came to Everett’s dog-walking jacket. The good one he’d gotten at the outlet store. The one he thinks makes him look like he’s back in high school wearing a barracuda with the little stand-up collar. The one with a poo bag in the pocket FULL OF DOG POO! Now, how does a grown man who thinks he’s looking cool manage to put a bag of poo into his pocket instead of the trash while he’s out walking his fluffy little cocker spaniel – and completely forget that he’s done so? I’ll leave that to your imagination as mine is simply not up to the task.