We had planned to have that drainage swale redug as soon as we could coordinate with another neighbor and the landscaper. But after looking at it today, I wondered if it would be a good candidate for a rain garden. Why send the water on down the street when it could be used here? Something to think about. The only real problem there is that we have to be able to drive through the gates beside the house.
But back to this morning. Since it was raining and no need to rush out and work in the yard at the crack of dawn, I slept in until 7:30. As I made my way around the corner into the kitchen, I smelled the stink of something rotten. The meat wrapper from last night's steaks, I thought. But no, those wrappers went into the garage trash. Maybe someone forgot to scrape their plate and there was something in the drain. No, not that either. I cleaned the sink anyway and poured some bleach down the drain even though that is not good for the septic system. That worked. For about five minutes. And then the smell was back. And it seemed to be stronger in the laundry hall.
I began to think it was under the washer or dryer. This isn't the normal time of year for mice to seek refuge in the house, but I did mow down the meadow a few days ago, and rodents have been known to run out of there in front of the mower, not that I saw any this time. The only wildlife evident there were the chiggars that attached themselves to my legs, feet, and ahem, other parts. It was time to play my least favorite game, "Where's
If you've ever experienced a dead mouse in the house, and heaven forbid, in the walls, you know that the smell starts off as a soured, rotten smell, and then gets progressively worse until you can't stand to be in the house. We have taken walls apart before looking for the little varmit, and I was not looking forward to that. I groused at the cat, telling him he wasn't doing his job as the mighty mouse hunter. He gave me one of those typical sardonic cat looks, with eyes narrowed to slits, which said that it served me right after locking him in night after night.
I washed all the laundry, in case it was our mud and sweat-stiffened yard clothes still drying on the floor. That wasn't it either. Finally, Hubby found the culprit, a pan I used to steam broccoli. I thought I had washed it and set it on the burner for today's lunch. Apparently not. That cleaned, the smell was gone. Disaster averted. I should apologize to the cat, but it would only go to his head, so I won't.