It was summer.
And, as usual, it was an overbooked summer.
Which meant a softball schedule, a baseball schedule, a drama schedule, and our usual overbooked work schedules.
I thought we were handling everything pretty well. We got everyone where they needed to be when they needed to be there, between the two of us a parent was at every game, and I didn't forget to show up for any gigs.
Yep, the summer was going well.
Then the smell started.
It was subtle at first. We weren't even sure where it was coming from. It might have been the baseball cleats. Or the compost pile in the backyard.
But, by day three we settled on the minivan. It was definitely coming from the minivan.
There was a chance it was coming from the air ducts. Which was a problem because it would mean that something had died somewhere inside the engine or other nasty hidden car places. Which would mean paying someone expensive to find it and fix it.
We resisted taking the van to the dealership. We drove with the windows open. We bought air fresheners. And we looked and looked and looked to track this odor down.
As the noxiousness grew ever stronger rather than weaker, our suspicions that something had died intensified.
We were right. Something had died. But it wasn't an animal.
As I approached the baseball diamond one evening my husband asked me, "What night was it that we bought Alex that sub sandwich?"
"Oh man, that was like, two weeks ago. Maybe even three. Why do you ask?"
In answer, he led me over to a nearby garbage can. The smell hit me from easily 20 feet away.
And there, in a plastic bag, was the worst smelling glob of liquid I think I've ever encountered.
Which, apparently, is what a half eaten Italian sub sandwich turns into after two or three weeks in the door pocket of a hot van in the summertime.
It was like a Magic Schoolbus episode.
No one went near the garbage can for the rest of the night.
I pity the poor garbage men that eventually had to deal with the results of our overbooked, "we'll just grab something quick to eat as we go to drama practice and then not have enough time to finish it so we can stuff it out of sight someplace later and ruin an expensive minivan" lifestyle.
It took two months for the smell to fully leave the van.
And I swear on hot days I can still smell the ghost of that sandwich.
The ghost of overbooked summers past.
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