The collected works of ScottyB

Arriving to work this morning after a nice, full weekend of the office being closed up, we were greeted with a vile, putrid odour - blasting us in the face like a spray of turbulent air, making our stomachs heave with its seemingly ‘physical’ wall.

The stench was thick, so much so it was almost like you could swim through it.

We raced for the windows, left the door open, opened the vent to the roof.

Not a pleasant thing to have to do due to the fact that its the middle of Winter, this morning it was a crisp four degrees celcius (probably colder in our uninsulated, tin shed) - and in order for the tiny wall-mounted air conditioner to be of any use whatsoever, the office has to be sealed tight like a Tupperware container.

The smell was extremely gross however. So our only option was the cold.

We immediately started checking for the source.

Fridge… off milk? No.

Bins… rotten food? No.

An animal crawled in somewhere and died? Nope.. Not that we can see.

There’s a terrible realisation that happens after a good thirty minutes of searching and cleaning. The reality that you may not find the source - and that we might have to put up with this for days to come.

Once, about 18 months ago, we had some sort of animal crawl into the wall space in the back room. And perish. The foul brew that developed within that wall - and eventually the room - was enough to turn even the strongest-stomached people into putty. Racing for the nearest toilet bowl. With no way in or out, no access whatsoever, we had no choice but to put up with it for two weeks.

Living near the bush is like that. Every now and again, you get something like that - an animal that chooses the nice warm walls, or the hot, damp earthen floor of the under-house to make its last breath.

As of this afternoon, we’ve still not uncovered the source.

Hooray.