Something died under our tub. We're not certain what it is or how it got under there, but we are quite certain that whatever it is, it is dead. We are also certain that short of tearing out the ceiling of the room underneath our tub, it's going to stay under there.
I hesitate to write this down, because some might be making assumptions about the way we live or more appropriately, the way I clean, so let me make this abundantly clear: due to a fear and loathing of rodents/city scavenger type animals and a sad history with both, we have made it exceedingly difficult to gain access to our home. In fact, short of borrowing a key, I'm not sure how the little guy (or girl) did it. But they did, and now they are sorry. So are we. The sad thing is that with my history in the food service industry, and Paul's superior "smell isolation" capacity, it didn't take us long to figure out what happened.
So now we wait while I try to distract myself from the sweet smell of death that has cornered that part of the house. And you all thought this was a craft blog.