Emily comes down the stairs one morning, “It kinda smells like B.O. down here. Is that you?”

I didn’t smell a thing which means it was either me or Emily just has a finer acuteness (she is cute) when it comes to matters olfactory. This was about a week ago. Then one day I started smelling something. “You know, baby, you might just be right about a funky smell lurking downstairs.” “I told you” with a smug look on her face. Every day for the past week the smell increased in unloveliness while also evading our discovery. In the closet? Nope. In the utility closet with the water heater? Nope. Under the sink? Nope. What about the garbage disposal? We poured a bottle of cleaner down it with hot water running. Still the funk was rising. Friday night some friends came over for fish sandwiches and to watch Enchanted. “Do you y’all smell something?” “Yeh, something funky is lurking” was the consensus. It’s generally not a good idea to have funk lurking in your house when having guests over, though the smell of fish sandwiches was tough competition for the funk. Finally, Saturday evening after coming home from work, we did mounted a full-blown search. Nothing could prepare us for what happened next. Sitting in the microwave was a dish of week-old cooked and forgotten about broccoli and cauliflower. One night last week I had popped some frozen veggies into the microwave while I was preparing the rest of dinner. Forgotten. When I opened the microwave, we knew right away that that was the smell. We had found the funk. Moral of the story? Eat your veggies.