This post just has me walking around singing the chorus of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “That Smell.”

“Ooh, ooh that smell
Can’t you smell that smell?
Ooh, ooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you.”

Ok, ok…I know that last line is a bit creepy, but fitting. In the past 24 hours there has been a horrid stench developing in our kitchen. At this point, you may as well commit me…I’m slowly losing my mind over the awful (and I mean AWFUL) smell. I have taken everything out of our fridge and cleaned, pulled the fridge out from the built-in cabinets, used more bleach that should be allowed for a closed room, and yet the smell doesn’t go away. Charles has crawled under the house, looking for signs of ANY thing that might have died in the crawl space…nothing.

The next morning, I vaguely remember skimming the safety booklet we got from Suburban Propane when they filled up the propane tank that runs to our furnace. It said something about a propane leak in your home will smell like a rotten egg or dead animal. VOILA! So I call the propane company and they go into panic mode, tell us to shut off the tank outside and evacuate the property. Within an hour they have a technician at our home with all of his tools showing absolutely no leak at all~but he doesn’t forget to drop off his $75 service call bill.

Back to square one. At this point, I’m not opposed to ripping the cabinets to the left of the fridge out…we think we have narrowed it down to that location. The only logical thing that I can think now is that one of Hutch’s (our mouse visitor) cousins is dead under the cabinet. My idea of going at the cabinets with a sledgehammer gets out-voted and, mush to my opposition, a plan of “Wait It Out” goes into effect. If it’s a dead mouse, the smell will go away in a couple weeks.

If I make it that long, I will let you know how it goes.