There I am, sitting on the living room rug, folding laundry and suddenly I get this mysterious whiff of.... puppy pee??? Huh?
Mind you, I don't have a dog. Or a cat. And I'm pretty certain that the gerbils had not hatched a recent escape plan - mad geniouses though they be - since it was frickin' freezing, Mr. Bigglesworth. They were undoubtedly still curled up warmly in their nests.
I decided it was a figment of my often-odd imagination and continued the thrilling task of pairing socks.
Now wait a minute. I DO smell puppy pee.
Anybody who's ever had a puppy knows that their pee smells quite a lot different than adult dog pee. In fact, our family dog's been dead for years, so you can imagine just how long its been since I've had to contend with puppy piddle, yet the smell evoked strong memory. DEFINITELY smells like puppy pee.
I am pretty damned certain that Downy has not changed their formula, but I start sniffing all the laundry like a suspicious cat. Nope. Nothing but April Fresh here.
Then, I catch a glimpse of the plastic grocery store bag that I'd brought back from dinner at mom's. My husband had taken the baby to visit his parents and I'd gone to have dinner with my folks. Mom had made pot roast - a family favorite - and sent leftovers home with me. I'd forgotten to put the bag in the fridge. (It had only been sitting there about 15 minutes). As I pick up the bag, it hits me.
It's the POT ROAST. The pot roast smells JUST like puppy pee.
I do not think I will share this information with my mother.