Turd-ally Spotless

It all started with a mysterious lone turd on my laundry room floor.

I went downstairs and there it was, just chillin' in the middle of the room. A single, mid-sized turd. I stopped in my tracks and squinted at it, as though staring would help me deduce who had, well, deuced - but I couldn't tell. Kids? Animals? Either one was possible. I mean, y'all know how many poop stories populate the archives of this blog. (Like this. Or this. Or this.) The volume of poop stories (some with photos!) in my repertoire is staggering. Pretty much everyone is a suspect.*

*Except for like, Curtis. That turd was way too small to belong to him.

I cleaned it up like a seasoned poo-cleaning veteran because, hello, one turd is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Although it was that exact aspect of the mystery that bothered me: the fact that there was only one turd. Because everybody knows that turds always come in multiples.

Still, I did a thorough sweep of the rest of the downstairs. No poop. So I shrugged and went on about my day, figuring that maybe one of the dogs had fished it out of the litter box and dropped it or something.

Fast-forward several hours later: I was back in the laundry room (because that's like where I live when I'm not in the kitchen or the minivan or wiping somebody's butt). I opened the washer to retrieve the boys' sheets and comforter. And I noticed that the usually-lovely fragrance of my detergent was tinged with a more ominous - less fresh and clean - odor. An unmistakable odor that my expert nose would recognize anywhere.

The odor of ...

... poop.

I blinked a couple of times. That's when I noticed a brown smudge on the clear window of the washer door. And upon closer inspection, another brown smudge on the seal. Faintly grainy-looking.

And then the realization came crashing down on me like a load of bricks: I. HAD WASHED. A PILE. OF POOP.

It suddenly all made sense. When I stripped the bedding off the boys' beds, I'd dumped it all into a heap on their floor, intending to put it immediately into the washer. But you know. There were cupcakes to eat other important things to do, and I got sidetracked, and the bedding ended up remaining on the floor for like half the day. Apparently while it was there, Puggy had decided to poop on it, unbeknownst to me. The nuggets nestled surreptitiously into the folds of the covers like little landmines, neatly camouflaged.

And then I had scooped it up and tossed it - turds and all - into the washing machine.

I guess I must have unknowingly dropped one of them on the laundry room floor in the process. Hence the single mysterious piece of poo.

Mystery solved. Bedding, rewashed.

They say you can't polish a turd, but I gave it my best - if accidental - effort.