lordmarcovan
Hero Member
- Jan 3, 2006
- 553
- 29
- Detector(s) used
- Many models over the years, mostly Garretts
- Primary Interest:
- All Treasure Hunting
No video from yesterday's hunt, so you'll have to settle for a digital mockup.
​Ever have one of those mornings where you wake up and find you have such awful morning breath you can't stand yourself?
Well, yesterday that happened to me.
Or so I thought.
I realized soon enough, however, that though I did indeed have an unpleasant case of morning breath, it wasn't that awful.
There was more to it than that.
Something else was rotten in Denmark, if you'll allow me to wax Shakespearean about it.
In other words, something stank powerfully bad in our bedroom, and we had several questions to answer.
One, we had a pretty good idea of what it was likely to be. The odor was quite distinctive. (Or distinktive, actually.)
Two, we knew better than to ask why.
Three, there were several possibilities as to who was responsible.
This left the fourth question... of where.
My wife got a flashlight and looked under the bed.
There was an old blind dog under there, and gawd knows what kind of dust bunnies (dust lions, probably, it being our household).
And the old blind dog, like old blind dogs in general, is not known for being particularly sweet-smelling.
But for once, I don't think he was the culprit.
It smelled like somebody had copped a squat very close by, if you knowhutimean.
The wife was preparing for work and the daughter for school. After she failed to find the source of the Mystery Odor, my wife hosed down the room liberally with Febreze. So then it smelled like fresh fecal material and tropical flowers. Which was truly a treat for the senses, let me tell you.
This meant it was left to me to solve The Riddle Of The Reek, as I had a few hours before work. (I had intended to sleep in. Yeah. Right.)
Ever have a mystery smell that you're scared to hunt down, and instead you just kind of try to ignore it and hope it goes away? Call it "stink denial".
I had a textbook case of stink denial as I tried to go back to sleep.
Couldn't do it. The funk was so bad it gave me a headache. I HAD to find the source of the odor, much as I dreaded it.
This was problematic, though.
Ever see those "Hoarders" shows, where they go into houses where people have been living in unbelievable squalor and filth for years?
OK, we're not that bad. (Sometimes I wonder, though.) We live in squalor, yes, but we do try to draw the line at actual filth.
The odor seemed to be emanating from somewhere in the vicinity of my bedside table. Trouble is, the floor around that table and the bookcase was piled with boxes of books, dug relics, papers, electronic equipment, and junk. It had been months since I'd mucked out my side of the stable, and so it was going to require a major engineering effort and even a little furniture moving to excavate the clutter heap and find the source of the stench.
It took me about forty-five minutes of moving boxes, picking up fallen papers, and sweeping out dust wolverines and an old blind dog from beneath the bed. (All stuff I knew I had to do anyway, but had procrastinated.)
Finally I discovered the source of the smell.
There was a large, semi-fresh turd in the corner by the base of my bookcase.
Fortunately, by random chance, it had been deposited on an old paper plate. (Heaven only knows what that had been doing there - there were no food stains on it - but I'm glad it was there, or one of my more expensive books would have been ruined.)
I am not 100% sure of the source species responsible for this deposit (cat? dog? human? wombat? centaur?), but though it was of the proper size to have been left by the old blind dog, I doubt he could have climbed the clutter pile and gotten so far back into that little cranny to do the deed. It had to have been one of our multiple cats, who are usually better about using the box or doing their biz outside.
Anyway, I only share this story because -
Umm, actually, I have no idea why I'm sharing this story.
But anyway, I made a digital cartoon to celebrate my heroism, and saved it as the desktop image on our computer, for my daughter's amusement when she came home from school:
You see, there's only a little bit more than a year left before my daughter becomes a teenager and I'll cease being the Funniest Man In The World and instead become the Most Uncool Old Guy Who Ever Lived. So while she still finds me hilarious, I might as well milk it for all it's worth, right?
(Yes, we do have an odd sense of humor in this family, as you've probably noticed by now.)
But hey, I kind of like how the Indiana Jones font came out, considering it was a rush job.
Some artistic license was used. For one thing, I didn't have a biohazard suit, much as I could have wished for one.
The stink waves shown in the cartoon are actually a bit understated. In reality, they were far more powerful and probably more greenish colored than that.
The turd in the cartoon is in about the right scale compared to the human figure, though. It was enormous.
And before you ask... no, I have not been known to sleepwalk, and there is no way I could have gotten into that tight corner, let alone squatted down.
I suppose I should be grateful to the unknown Turd Bandit (whoever or whatever it was), for forcing me to do some long-overdue housekeeping.
​Ever have one of those mornings where you wake up and find you have such awful morning breath you can't stand yourself?
Well, yesterday that happened to me.
Or so I thought.
I realized soon enough, however, that though I did indeed have an unpleasant case of morning breath, it wasn't that awful.
There was more to it than that.
Something else was rotten in Denmark, if you'll allow me to wax Shakespearean about it.
In other words, something stank powerfully bad in our bedroom, and we had several questions to answer.
One, we had a pretty good idea of what it was likely to be. The odor was quite distinctive. (Or distinktive, actually.)
Two, we knew better than to ask why.
Three, there were several possibilities as to who was responsible.
This left the fourth question... of where.
My wife got a flashlight and looked under the bed.
There was an old blind dog under there, and gawd knows what kind of dust bunnies (dust lions, probably, it being our household).
And the old blind dog, like old blind dogs in general, is not known for being particularly sweet-smelling.
But for once, I don't think he was the culprit.
It smelled like somebody had copped a squat very close by, if you knowhutimean.
The wife was preparing for work and the daughter for school. After she failed to find the source of the Mystery Odor, my wife hosed down the room liberally with Febreze. So then it smelled like fresh fecal material and tropical flowers. Which was truly a treat for the senses, let me tell you.
This meant it was left to me to solve The Riddle Of The Reek, as I had a few hours before work. (I had intended to sleep in. Yeah. Right.)
Ever have a mystery smell that you're scared to hunt down, and instead you just kind of try to ignore it and hope it goes away? Call it "stink denial".
I had a textbook case of stink denial as I tried to go back to sleep.
Couldn't do it. The funk was so bad it gave me a headache. I HAD to find the source of the odor, much as I dreaded it.
This was problematic, though.
Ever see those "Hoarders" shows, where they go into houses where people have been living in unbelievable squalor and filth for years?
OK, we're not that bad. (Sometimes I wonder, though.) We live in squalor, yes, but we do try to draw the line at actual filth.
The odor seemed to be emanating from somewhere in the vicinity of my bedside table. Trouble is, the floor around that table and the bookcase was piled with boxes of books, dug relics, papers, electronic equipment, and junk. It had been months since I'd mucked out my side of the stable, and so it was going to require a major engineering effort and even a little furniture moving to excavate the clutter heap and find the source of the stench.
It took me about forty-five minutes of moving boxes, picking up fallen papers, and sweeping out dust wolverines and an old blind dog from beneath the bed. (All stuff I knew I had to do anyway, but had procrastinated.)
Finally I discovered the source of the smell.
There was a large, semi-fresh turd in the corner by the base of my bookcase.
Fortunately, by random chance, it had been deposited on an old paper plate. (Heaven only knows what that had been doing there - there were no food stains on it - but I'm glad it was there, or one of my more expensive books would have been ruined.)
I am not 100% sure of the source species responsible for this deposit (cat? dog? human? wombat? centaur?), but though it was of the proper size to have been left by the old blind dog, I doubt he could have climbed the clutter pile and gotten so far back into that little cranny to do the deed. It had to have been one of our multiple cats, who are usually better about using the box or doing their biz outside.
Anyway, I only share this story because -
Umm, actually, I have no idea why I'm sharing this story.
But anyway, I made a digital cartoon to celebrate my heroism, and saved it as the desktop image on our computer, for my daughter's amusement when she came home from school:
You see, there's only a little bit more than a year left before my daughter becomes a teenager and I'll cease being the Funniest Man In The World and instead become the Most Uncool Old Guy Who Ever Lived. So while she still finds me hilarious, I might as well milk it for all it's worth, right?
(Yes, we do have an odd sense of humor in this family, as you've probably noticed by now.)
But hey, I kind of like how the Indiana Jones font came out, considering it was a rush job.
Some artistic license was used. For one thing, I didn't have a biohazard suit, much as I could have wished for one.
The stink waves shown in the cartoon are actually a bit understated. In reality, they were far more powerful and probably more greenish colored than that.
The turd in the cartoon is in about the right scale compared to the human figure, though. It was enormous.
And before you ask... no, I have not been known to sleepwalk, and there is no way I could have gotten into that tight corner, let alone squatted down.
I suppose I should be grateful to the unknown Turd Bandit (whoever or whatever it was), for forcing me to do some long-overdue housekeeping.
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