I am feeling slightly guilty (emphasis on the “slightly”) because I blamed Billy’s B.O. for the nasty stink that was in our apartment the last few days. I tried to be all subtle about it, too, like walking away when he sat down next to me on the couch or that time when I told him he should go take a shower because he stank.
I have to take all that back, though, because TODAY we discovered the true source of the stink, and sadly it won’t go away no matter what I do. (Although, for the record, I am glad that Billy did take a shower today.)
Billy was taking out the trash (without my even asking, huzzah!) as he was leaving for work, and we were saying our good-byes once or twice as he was walking towards the door. He put down the bag a couple of times, and after he got out the door, he realized there was a trail of slimy goo following behind him everywhere he went. Slimy smelly yellow goo. ICK.
He got to go to work then and I got to pull out the mop for an unscheduled floor washing. Washing the floors did not get rid of the smell, so then I wiped the floors down with Clorox cleaner and that did not work either. Then I dug out a bottle of Lysol and started spraying it everywhere for several minutes. I managed to get the apartment smelling like Lysol- and bleach-scented rancid trash. I’m not honestly sure which odor was worse, and I could probably have saved myself the effort of washing the floors, too.
The odor seems to be fading, or else maybe I’m just building an immunity to it. But I guess what I’m trying to say is, sometimes the rancid smell that emanates from your husband’s pores isn’t always all his fault. Let that be a lesson to you.