For weeks I saw sippy cups disappear from our hotel room. I figured they were lost by a frazzled nanny as she wheeled our son through the zoo, the park, and the grocery store in his fire red stroller.

After reclaiming our sanity, our son, and my mini-van, I hunted for sippies finding only two. Where have all the others gone?

I believe there is a vortex underneath the passenger seat of the van from where a gas, not oxygen, currently emanates.

I am not woman enough to reach my hand under the seat and pull out whatever horrors lie beneath. I’ll freely admit that I am a giant chicken, a wimp, yes…even a girl.

Maybe I’ll take it to the Wal-Mart Auto Center and say “no I don’t need my tires rotated, just check underneath the passenger seat.” Should the mechanic be so bold as to investigate and come away from the van shaking his hand in the air and shrieking to the heavens I will know that it is time to sell my gas guzzling beast.

Even if I were to summon up the courage to investigate more closely I’m not sure that any amount of carpet cleaner or lye soap could remove the offending life form. As many will recall I encountered a similar “mystery fungus” behind my couch months ago which began to shriek and moan when sprayed with Windex.

So if nothing else, I’ll give Techie some nookie, arm him with a bottle of lemon scented pine sol and send him on a quest to discover and kill the source of the offending odor.

I fully expect to get any number of comments about how this makes my readers want to vomit. I do apologize, in fact, this is not the blog post that I intended it to be when I sat down to write. Tonight’s blog post was supposed to be about my renewed intent to get knocked up by my husband and a team of talented medical professionals. Alas, this post will stand as proof that I should indeed reproduce on account of my fine mothering and housekeeping skills.

For those who were barfing it may further offend and disgust you to know I wrote the entire post while sitting on the toilet!