The smell of rotting animal was emanating from my dryer.
Oh yes. As if I could put up with one more small, dead animal during this deployment, this was, as they say, the "icing on the cake."
I don't go down in the basement often. Jake's Man Cave is down there...and, it's a bit lonely to hang out in that space without him. Additionally, the couches have been covered with clean but unfolded laundry for....pretty much the entire deployment. The washer and dryer reside in the basement, so, again, I try to spend as little time down there as possible!
Upon emptying the dehumidifier the other day, a sickingly nasty smell wafted past my nostrils. Having a pretty good sniffer, I smelled around for the offending odor. The inside of the dryer was definitely malodorous.
This was not exactly a surprise. Last weekend, as I moved a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer, the dryer "died" as I tried to turn it on. There was a big "thunk" noise as I attempted to start it, and then it made a buzz/click noise like an engine that won't start. I took the load of wet laundry and dried it at my sister's house, thinking I was dealing with a dead dryer on a holiday weekend.
On Tuesday morning, I went back to the basement to try the start button again so I'd know how to explain the buzz/click noise to the dryer repairman. I was determined to fix the machine rather than go out and buy a new appliance. When I turned the button on, miraculously the dryer started. Problem solved! Or so I thought...
A few days later, the smell began. Ever the "hometown hero" poised to rescue me at a moments notice, was my fearless Dad. He descended, plugged in the wet/dry vac, and set to solving my problem. He fished the hose around inside of the dryer vent, but found nothing but lint. "Sorry, Em, there was nothing in there," he told me.
This weekend, the smell was overwhelming. I was CERTAIN there was something dead, and definitely rotten...rotting IN my dryer. EW.
So, again, I made the phone call - calling in the fearless reinforcements....this time Dad and brother Dylan. Armed with flashlights, tools, and a wet dry vac...they went in. Clanging, banging, suctioning, pounding....they were certain to find the cause this time!
As I was pulling weeds outside of the house, I heard....yelling? Screaming? Not uncommon with my family...but this was more of a "OhmygoshthatstotallygrossIcantbelieveyoujustpulledsomethingsodisgustingfrommysistersdryerdadwithawetdryvacewwwwww!"
16 year old teenage boy scream.
Dylan emerges from the depths. "Oh my gosh, Dad just got something...I don't know if it's a rat...or a bird...but... UGH. Give me some gloves."
Of course I was not going anywhere NEAR the basement, hence the hilarity of this ridiculously raunchy situation. I handed my brother the pink gardening gloves, and a few minutes later he emerged again....claiming it was a tiny, decomposing "Chip and Dale Rescue Ranger" chipmunk.
Such a tiny thing emanating such STINK!
Phew. Problem solved. Again. Such hometown heroes have I, in my fear(less?) Daddy and brother.
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for rescuing me (again!)