What's The Smell?

So I walk into the house the other day and I am hit almost immediately with what seemed like the distinctive odor of, well, poop.

I ask my wife if she can smell it and she says no. While I know she doesn't have as much nose to work with as I do, I am pretty amazed she can't smell it, She asked whether it could be a dead animal. I tell her this is an entirely different smell.

I sniff around a bit, but I can't seem to isolate the smell and I'm really in no hurry to locate it. I go about my business, figuring it will reveal itself in due time. Or in doo doo time. (Let it be known David Ries never passes on a poop joke.)

A few minutes later, I walk by the kitchen sink and in hide and seek terms, "you're getting warmer....you're hot." There is a UPO, an unidentified putrid object in a pink food dish. And it reeks!

Most likely, it came from Rebecca's car. Rebecca's car isn't exactly pristine. It has art supplies and other items throughout the front and back seats. I jokingly call it the Honda Storage Unit.

Apparently, Tobey unearthed this container and transported it into the house. I have no idea what fossilized food artifact is before my eyes. I consider carbon dating. Or cutting it in half and counting the rings.

Instead, I carry it to the trash can and flip the container upside-down. It ain't budging, folks. Eventually, I find a plastic utensil and nudge it. It falls with a solid thud into the trash can. I wash away whatever residuedue is left until I can walk by the sink without the activation of my gag reflex.

Tonight, you will find it exposed in a green trash bin with the lid pulled back to air it out. I still don't know what it is, but I swear I heard turkey vultures circling our driveway tonight calling out to each other. The cry sounded like, "Oh, hell no!"