The Mystery of the Smelly Smell

One fine day, a woman worked and slaved and washed, dried, folded and hung up all the laundry that was to be done in her household, because her man needed clean clothes for his upcoming journey! The woman loved her man very much. While the man went off gallivanting, the woman dutifully stayed at home. She worked and slaved even more so that her home would look just as lovely and perfect as those in the Better Homes and Gardens magazine. OK, no, really, while her man was gone she actually just sat around the house eating frozen dinners and watching TV and letting the dishes pile up in the sink. Lord knows she needed a frickin' break from her daily grind of chores. She especially didn't do any laundry, because after all, she had just recently worked and slaved and washed, dried, folded and hung up all the laundry that was to be done in her household, of course!

One day after the man went away, the woman noticed a strange smell permeating the air inside her lovely home. "If I ignore it, it will go away," thought she. Another day passed. The smell worsened. "Oh dear, perhaps I should take out the garbage, even though that is the man's job and he is away." And so she did, even carefully spraying the trash can with Lysol for good measure. "Now my lovely home will smell fresh and delightful again!" the woman believed. Alas, it was not to be. The smelly smell persisted. Next, the woman cleansed and ran the garbage disposal in the sink, but to no avail. The sink was not the source of the smell at all. "A puzzlement!" exclaimed the woman.

Days and days passed. The woman grew despondent. She wandered the house searching, searching for the source of the disagreeable aroma. When, at last, she was ready to burn down the house and flee to a tropical island and take up with a good-looking native man and live in a hut that would surely house no mysterious smelly smells, fate intervened. She stepped barefoot into a fairly fresh pile of doggie poo on the throw rug in the entrance hall. One of her dogs had had an accident.

Now, gentle reader, think not that the poo was the original smelly smell. The poo was only a red herring. "Shit," exclaimed the poo-footed woman, "now I must do even more laundry!" She shook the large chunks of poo into the yard and prepared to wash the offending rug. Upon opening the lid to the washing machine, she gagged and nearly threw up. Then she smiled and laughed and rejoiced, as she had finally unraveled the mystery of the smelly smell! A strange blackish retention pond is what her washing machine had become. The smelly smell was amazingly icky. Within the icky water that filled it to the brim, there resided one pair of jeans, one shirt, two socks, and a towel. It seems that the man, regardless of the fact that all of his wardrobe was clean, had placed the one outfit he had been wearing the day before his departure and the one towel he had just used for his shower, into the washing machine, turned it off, and then left it all to ferment. Even though the man believed he was being helpful, the woman then had even more work to do to get the smelly smell out of the clothes and the washer and the house. The end.