Reeking Havoc

The warmest room in our house is the half bath on the first floor. The heat pours into this closet-sized space like nobody’s business — and even when the rest of the house is freezing, the tiny bathroom is delightful. Could I put a TV in there, maybe?

This has also become our go-to spot for drying gloves, hats, and soaked running shoes, so naturally when my son came home drenched from lacrosse practice, I neatly arranged his gear in front of the heating register.

The next morning I opened the door to  stench so horrid I nearly retched. For a second I though maybe one of the cats peed in there — or ALL of the cats —  but no, this terrible smell was wafting up from the lacrosse gear.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Under normal circumstances the stuff doesn’t smell great, but it’s acceptable; the application of heat unleashed a monster.

I’ve finally shaken that stink out of my head and learned a valuable lesson about drying athletic equipment: if you put wet, sweaty things in a hot little box don’t be surprised when you open the door.

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