Yesterday as we headed to a friend’s house we were assaulted by a horrid smell. The Hubs said that he smelled something as soon as he sat in the driver’s seat. What was it? Dog poop?…Again?! We both checked our shoes…Nothing. The Boy checked his…Nothing. Maybe we were imagining things. I sniffed my clothes…Nope. Just dryer sheets and a little dog smell. We got to the stop sign at the end of our street and put the Mom Van in park.
I got out and looked in the backseat. There didn’t seem to be anything obvious. Two old bottles from that morning passed the sniff test. A tutu worn that morning smelled a little funky but not the correct odor. We made The Boy sniff around in the third row. He smelled nothing. I sniffed the babies and braced for our first in-car diaper blowout. They passed the sniff test too. We agreed that driving with the windows down was a good idea.
We drove on. I insisted that it must be him. He checked his boots again. We turned the air up and the smell got worse. Maybe it’s my shoes? They did get wet the other day. I took off my sandals and we both sniffed them. Not a great smell. Well maybe that was it? I sniffed them again. Nope. Feet and leather wasn’t the smell we were looking for. I looked at his pants. Maybe they sat too long in the wash? Nope. Dryer sheets again. We sniffed our pits. At this point we agreed that the smell was coming from below us and was on his side of the vehicle.
We pulled over after the next red light and got out in a grocery store parking lot. The Boy asked what was wrong with us. Obviously his nose was blessedly broken because this smell was rank. The Hubs took off his boots and sniffed them. He passed them to me to sniff. Foul but the wrong smell still. I felt that the smell we were trying to sniff out smelled like dirty booty and sour milk. He said it smelled like rancid dog poop. Whatever it was was bad. We stood in the parking lot at a loss for where the smell might be.
He remembered that he’d felt something squish when he moved his seat backwards to get into the driver’s seat. We looked at each other with shared fear of what we’d find when we moved the seat up. As he slowly moved the seat forward, the smell escaped like some sort of evil genie. Even The Boy could smell it now. Jesus Christ it was bad! We were afraid to look. I was sure that we were about to find an exploded old poopy diaper lodged under the seat. As the seat moved a blue box was revealed. A squished blue Tupperware freezer box to be precise.
God knows how long that thing had been there! I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen it. Shout out to Tupperware for making products that can contain that kind of stink for so long. There wasn’t even any food it it just some bits and pieces stuck here and there. No clue as to what had once been housed in it other than a spoon resting on the inside. He scowled at me. I laughed then gasped for fresh air. The Tupperware lover in me silently wondered if the old girl could be saved. The Hubs read my mind and said it had to go. There was no way we could keep driving now that we’d opened Pandora’s Tupperware of Stanky Booty Juice. We pitched it, spoon and all and got back in the van. I giggled. He laughed. We drank in the fresh air.