Full of CRAP. . . It's not just an expression anymore!

Well. . . I need to start right off and tell you this story AIN'T PRETTY! This is not your cute little 'House At Pooh Corner' with Christopher Robbin and Pooh and Piglet scampering off happily through the Hundred Acre Woods. . . (unless the Hundred Acre woods is full of nasty, stomach-turning smells, as well as owl droppings, deer dumpings, elk urine and lil' rotting rabbit carcases everywhere)

Nope! This ain't no Ozzie and Harriet story either--(more like Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne)

But. . . some of my dear friends and family have literally BEGGED me to tell this story on my blog. . . and so I am reliving this HOUSE OF HORRORS just for you!

(Just so you know, some of you are gonna owe me a FREE DINNER when I get through as I'm starting to feel clammy and sweaty just WRITING about it.)

Deep breath. . . make that a deep CLEAN breath of fresh air. . . all right, I'm ready to begin:

It all started in the spring of '06 (and NO, that's not 1906--but 2006--I'm not THAT old)

Anyway--my firstborn son had come home briefly from college to crash for a bit, right after the semester was over, just before he headed off to Alaska to do some commercial fishing for the summer. . .

He was only home for a few weeks--but right after he left, I started noticing a REALLY BAD SMELL in the house. Particularly downstairs in the office (which also doubles as a guest room) and has an adjoining bathroom. . . this was where oldest son had been 'crashing'.

So I'm thinking. . . OK, maybe he doesn't have the best cleaning habits the world and I give the entire room and downstairs bath a thorough cleaning--and for a few days all I notice is the strong smell of chemicals and bleach.

But THEN--this crappy (and I do mean crappy) smell comes back. . . and I'm checking the floor vents and corners and crevices of my home to see what can be causing that SMELL. . . I find nothing, but dutifully clean again. . . and all is well, for a while. . .

Meanwhile, the weather starts getting a bit warmer as we are heading into the summer months--and I must tell you at this point that late spring and early summers can be a bit tricky here in the northwest--as some days are absolutely FREEZING and new snow is dumped on the mountains--and other days can be sunny and warm and time to break out the T-Shirts and sandals.

But I am going crazy, because on SOME days--I am noticing a really strong odor in my house (hindsight now tells me it was on the WARMER days) and I can't go downstairs, much less in the office without my eyes watering and my gag reflex kicking in. Upstairs it's not quite so bad. . .

So at this point, I start to enlist the help of my 2 younger sons and dear hubby, who seem to be OBLIVIOUS to this INCREDIBLY BAD PERFUNGERATION (if that's a word) going on in our home. . .

Me: I think we may be harboring a dead body that I'm not aware of, so you guys need to 'fess up.

Middle son: I didn't do it!

Youngest son: Cool!

Dear Hubby: What are you trying to say?

Me: Don't you guys notice that SMELL?

Dear Hubby: What smell? The house smells normal to me. . .

Me: Dear HEAVENS! Can't you see that I'm talking to you through a gas mask? There is something WRONG WITH THIS HOUSE. You guys need to look for it, FIND IT, and remove it.

So off they go on a 'house-hunting' adventure. . .

Meanwhile I call dear daughter--who is close to giving birth to my second grandchild.

Me: Hey, have you guys been noticing any kind of smell when you come to the house?

Dear daughter: Well, I wasn't going to say anything. . . but. . .

Me: But what?

Dear daughter: Some days the house DID kinda smell funny when we were over there. (She's rushing her words together quickly so I won't feel bad) but after the initial shock wore off and we were actually IN the house for a while and our noses crusted over a bit--it seemed fine. Really!

I get off the phone quickly to check on the men and let them know once and for all that it wasn't just ME and my 'sensitive nose'--that there really was a problem. . .

They came up with nothing--but dear hubby is now getting into this and thinks maybe we have some nasty standing water in our washing machine or something. . .so he and the boys take the washing machine out to the back yard and turn it upside down and shake it a few times. . . nothing! It's dry as a bone. . .

So now that the outtake hose is exposed from the washer--dear hubby pours a bottle of bleach, drain-o, and numerous other chemicals down there just in case there is some nasty standing water or STUFF trapped in the hose. . .THEN he surmises that there might be a dead little critter between the space in the wall and the pipe and so he putties up the hole around the hose that leads to the washer, produces a satisfied smile and pronounces: 'There! Good as new!'

I had to admit with all those chemicals and cleaning and whatnot, I couldn't smell anything for a few days. . .

But then, just like a bad penny, my adult children, and door to door salesmen--the smell came back. . . WITH A VENGEANCE. By this time, I was so paranoid, I stopped having people over--I had carpet cleaners, vent cleaners, washed the dog numerous times, I was even considering putting the home on the market and moving, when it dawned on me that I'd have to get rid of that SMELL first. . .

Hubby INSISTED the house smeled like 'fresh carpet cleaning' or 'fresh vent cleaning' or 'fresh power washing' or 'fresh wet dog' or whatever the heck else I had done that day. I told him he was FULL OF CRAP! This house STUNK to high heaven and I was moving out if we didn't find the source and get rid of it PRONTO!

My daughter was about to have a baby, my mother in law was coming for a visit, and I had planned to host a 'Shade Clothing' party for my gal pals and their daughters in a couple of weeks and I felt I was living in a crappy house. (How soon THAT proved to be true!) I canceled the clothing party, got my mother in law to postpone her visit, but I couldn't stop my dear daughter from having her baby and so I was at wit's end. . .

A few days later, while I was lying on the couch in the family room numb from exhaustion, watching TV with a clothespin over my nose---one of my middle son's friends came in through the front door (even though I had posted a HUGE SIGN right on it that read: 'DO NOT ENTER! KNOCK 3 TIMES, STAND BACK AND WAIT FOR US TO COME OUT TO YOU"

Anyway, this friend of my son comes barging in anyway, notices my son in the front office and bursts out: 'Holy #@!!! Your house smells like CRAP!"

I come rushing to him from the family room and he immediately starts to apologize as he didn't know I was there and overheard him. But I give him a great big hug and start smothering him with kisses.

Son's friend: Middle son's mom, are you alright? (trying to get out of my tight embrace)

Me: Did you just say my house smelled like crap?

Son's friend: (Stammering and stuttering) Uh, well, what I meant to say. . .

Me: (Interrupting) No! It's OK. . .Really! I want you to be truthful.

Son's friend: I shouldn't have said that.

Me: But it's true?

Son's friend (eyes are watering and face is starting to melt off from being in our house): Yeah, it's pretty much true.

Me: I KNEW IT! Thank you!

Son's friend (barely able to get the words out from his imploding face): Can I leave now?

Me: Of course!

Son's friend gasps and grovels towards the door (all of 3 steps) and manages to get out and on with his life. . .

So I thunk my son on the head and said: See, I TOLD YOU! Our house really STINKS! Why haven't you guys noticed this? (That's when I take a closer look at him and realize his nose has completely fallen off and he can't smell a thing)

When dear hubby comes home a few hours later, THE SMELL HAD EFFECTED ME SO BADLY my face swelled up to the size of a small watermelon. We noticed the dog 'scooting' on the family room rug--and he got down on the floor to check it out--and sure enough--it smelled really bad! (but then, so did the rest of the house) So I took the dog to the vet to get his 'anal glands squeezed' and I was told my dog had a bad infection and may have problems like this more often in the future as he was getting older.

Now if you've read my 'Dad or Dog' post you will realize that this dog is part of the family and my sons AND hubby are just over the moon for him. . .But, if this was the source of the problem, and it was only going to get worse--then well, it was time for dear dog to pass beyond this world and into the next. . .

So I convinced dear hubby that we should schedule for the dog to be 'put down' and I made the call right then and there. I was saddened to lose the dog, but thrilled by the prospect that we FINALLY MIGHT GET RID OF THAT SMELL once and for all--and I could get my life back!

The dog was set for his departure from this world at 3:00 p.m. the next afternoon, and my poor hubby was beside himself over this. The boys had basically said their goodbyes that evening before they went to bed. . . but dear hubby ended up sleeping on the floor with the dog his final night. . . I was really feeling very badly.

Dear hubby went off to work the next morning, knowing that when he got home that day, his dog would be no more. I had carpet cleaners, vent cleaners, window washers, power scrubbers, and house-smell restoring guys all lined up to come by at 5:00 p.m that afternoon. . .

Then just before lunch time, I get a call from dear hubby asking if my middle son was home. I check and make sure that my son is still comatose in his room and reply, 'Yes, he's here.'

Dear hubby: Good. Keep him there. I'll be right home and I need him to help me with something.

Dear hubby gets home and drags my son out of bed and proceeds to march him into the office and open up the ' trap door' in the floor of the closet that leads to the crawlspace underneath our home.

Dear hubby to my son: I want you to go down there and tell me if you see anything.

(The smell is now so overpowering from opening that trap door, that I open the front door and stand outside to watch the rest of the proceedings)

Middle son (now fully waking up and not too sure about this): Uh, will I be OK?

Dear hubby: Sure! You'll be fine! Oh, and here's a flashlight.

The amazing thing about this is that my 19 year old son ACTUALLY DOES GO DOWN THERE!

Middle son (as he is entering the crawlspace): Is there supposed to be water down here?

Dear hubby doesn't respond, grabs another flashlight and follows him down. .

Middle son: Oh CRAP!

Dear hubby: What?

Middle son: I said CRAP, dad, CRAP!

Dear hubby: Don't talk like that, your mother can hear you.

Middle son (rushing to get out for dear life): No, I'm trying to tell you dad. . .

Dear hubby (seeing for himself): Holy crap!

Middle son and dear hubby scramble out of there faster than a guy who's just gorged out at the 'all you can eat Mexican buffet' and then needs to use the restroom! (I know it's toilet humor, but doggone it--it fits!)

Dear hubby: I think the sewer line is busted under our house. I'm calling the plumber. He hastily shuts the trap door and throws a tic-tac in his mouth.

Youngest son thankfully missed out on all the fun as he had to get up and go to school that morning. . .

Dear hubby (getting off the phone with the plumber): I have some bad news. The plumber says if there really is POOH under our house, he is not gonna come out and fix the pipes until it's cleaned up. We have to call a HAZMAT team.

Me: You're kidding me!

Dear hubby: Would I kid about a thing like that?

Me: Where are we gonna find a HAZMAT team?

Dear hubby: We'll just google 'bio-hazard' on the internet. . .Oh, and call the vet and tell them we are NOT gonna need his services to put the dog down. It's not the dogs anals that are causing the problem. . .it's ours!

I had to admit he was right. . . and that lucky dog got a last minute reprieve.

So dear hubby reaches some 'bio-hazard' folk on the phone and ask them to PLEASE come AS SOON as possible--which turned out fortunately to be within just a couple of hours--around 2:30 p.m.

Dear hubby: Well, I'm back to work--just show them the trap door and I'm sure they can follow their noses!

Me: Gee, thanks!

Right around 2:30 p.m. a sloppy mini van pulls up with Zeke and Deke, two regular joes, in regular clothes, one tall and thin and missing several of his front teeth, the other extremely portly and with his crack hanging out of the back of his pants--even while standing! YIKES! This was just like every bad sit-com or movie you could imagine.

Me: Are you the bio-hazard people?

Zeke and Deke: We shore are!

Me: Don't you need protective clothing or something? And isn't there some kind of heavy equipment you need to remove bio-hazard material?

Deke: Don't you worry your purty lil' head, missy. We'll be fine.

Zeke: Yeah, we're only here to ASSESS the situation. If there's cause for real concern--we'll send a professional team right out to take care of the problem.

Deke: Yeah, and if they come, why they'll be so many trucks and bio-hazard equipment, it will make yur head spin!

My head was already spinning, but I managed to let them in. They didn't look or smell too good themselves. . . I pointed them to the closet and the trap door and warned them there may be 'pooh' down there and to be careful.

Zeke: Now missy, everyone ALWAYS thinks they have a 'pooh' problem under their home--but it rarely turns out to be that bad. What you most likely have here is a bad case of mold.

Me: Mold? This doesn't smell like mold. . .

Deke (acting like he couldn't wait to get down there): Shore smells like mold to me! Let's check this puppy out!

Zeke opens the door and isn't even phased by the smell. It knocks be back into another room and I STILL manage to caution them.

Me: You might want to put on a mask or something as my hubby says he thinks a SEWER line is busted. . .and. . .

Deke: I told ya not to worry, I've got my trusty flashlight--and really, it don't smell too bad. Just a bit moldy, that's all. I'm gonna take me a look-see.

Meantime my youngest son comes rushing home from school and I have to tell you that I have raised four children, NONE of whom have EVER used a school bathroom in their lives. They have 'school bathroom phobia' or something--so they 'save up' and do their business at home. This is what my son was doing at EXACTLY the same time Deke went down the crawlspace to take a look-see at the 'mold'.

Zeke: Well, what is it? Did you find anything?

Deke: Holy crap! #@!!! Sh***!

Zeke: There's no call for that kinda language, Deke. There's a lady present.

Deke: No! I'm telling ya it's full of CRAP down here--and oh Lordy be, a fresh package has just landed! (my son had flushed the toilet)

Deke races outta there like a man trying to get a bag of bats off his head. . .

Zeke: M'am we've assessed the situation.

Deke: Yep! And it ain't mold. . . .

Zeke: We're gonna leave some big hepa filter fans for you to use to try and get some of this smell out. And don't you worry--the bio-hazard team will be here at 6:00 a.m. sharp tomorrow morning to remove the 'poop'

Deke: Yeah, and I might suggest you don't use your toilets until this gets fixed.

Me: No problem--I'm not planning on living here at the moment.

Deke: Missy, it really ain't bad. What you've got is what we call a 'slow leak'--it builds up over time. . . and . .

Me: I don't want to know, but thanks for coming.

They tried to shake my hand at that point, but I just shook my head no, and pointed in the direction of the door. . .

That evening we have the windows open, every fan in the house running, enough candles lit to burn the place to cinders. . . and tried to sleep. . .

The next morning, bright and early at 6:00 a.m. as promised, the circus. . . I mean Bio-hazard folks, arrived. . . and it was a sight to behold! Neighbors from other subdivisions came to watch the 'team' at work. The big trucks that pulled up were all white, the guys were wearing those all white suits with gas masks on--just like in the E.T. move--and talking and breathing the same way Darth Vader does in those Star Wars films. . .

WHY IN THE WORLD they wore all white suits to do what they were doing, and working with the 'materials' they were working with--is beyond me. . . But the neighborhood folks seemed to be enjoying the show.

I can't believe these neighbors came right over to talk to us--even though these HUGE trucks had the words: DANGER, BIO HARARD MATERIALS and REALLY NASTY STUFF, COULD CAUSE HORRIFIC PROBLEMS written on the sides. . .

After the HAZMAT team finished up--they brought even BIGGER hepa filter fans to use and a warming light to dry up underneath the house, which we dutifully used for 3 days. . . then the plumber showed up and re-did the plumbing underneath the home. . . and THE SMELL WAS FINALLY GONE!

Me and dear hubby could exclaim together at last, "This house has been cleansed!"

I had friends over to the house again, my mother-in-law arrived and my daughter had her second child on father's day. . . and no one was the wiser about our 'crappy experience'. . .

Seriously, I'm amazed that so many people never knew or figured it out. . .(including my own FAMILY) but I am so glad that the poop is no longer hitting the fan and that all of that is BEHIND us now. . .

And just to prove that I'm not making this UP--Here are some photos. . .WARNING: They are not for the faint of heart. The proof is in the pudding as they say. . . only in this case--it's NOT pudding! (As nasty as they are, please realize, these were taken when the 'clean up' was taking place and most of the 'evidence' was already removed!)






Soooo. . . when someone uses that expression 'full of crap'. . . I sit back and just smile--because THEY HAVE NO IDEA! Only someone who has actually been in the trenches and gone through the bowels of my crawlspace knows EXACTLY what that phrase means!

And now--I will sanitize the rest of this posting and end on a happier, cleaner note: