On the transitive property of wet dogs

Today the lady who cleans and does our laundry came. After she left, I went into the bathroom. Pause. It smelled rank, exactly like wet dog. It smelled so much like wet dog that I actually went outside to see if there was, in fact, a wet dog lurking outside the window.

Back inside Terry found the source of the offensive odor. It went something like this:

Dirty old never cleaned mop + bucket of cold water with no chemical cleaner = smells like wet dog. Then, by the transitive property of stink, when you mop the entire floor with that, the entire floor smells like wet dog.

Grumble grumble. So we will use hot water and bleach and remop the whole thing.

On top of that today it was miserably hot and I spent the whole day either editing, taking fieldnotes, or organizing contacts. The afternoon was devoted to calling around trying to line up appointments. All I managed was to make appointments to call back and make appointments. But these are high level people, so if it only takes me a few such calls, it will still be a triumph.