Can't you smell that smell?

Have you ever noticed how paranoid you get when you catch a whiff of an offensive odor? You ask others if they smell it too, sticking your nose into the air with deep breaths like a dog. Where is it coming from? It is not me, is it? You smell, that, don’t you? You are even willing to press your nose and face against surfaces possibly containing the odor, just to sooth your paranoia. Finding the smell calms you shortly, until you realize that you have to do something about it. Oh, it’s __________! How in the world are we going to get rid of THAT?

Our house stinks. Literally. Despite having carpeting that is no more than 4 years old and being showered with squirts of de-stinker and being steam cleaned, it still stinks. There is no taming the stink beast, no matter how hard we try. I cover it with Febreeze, only to have it rear its ugly head hours later.

Our stink is no ordinary stink: it is cat urine. I do not have a cat. I do not want a cat, and I want the smell of cat pee to leave. I have turned to Google for the solution to this pesky stench issue, yielding much advice that is not consistent in any fashion. Pour vinegar and water on it; douse it with a miracle cleaner that is $50 a bottle; cover it with hydrogen peroxide; seal it in with Kilz primer and my favorite, set the house on fire. I suppose lighting anything on fire could solve your problems, but there is no need to get extreme.

The cats that once occupied our house have used the floor of many rooms in our home as their personal litter box, which often makes me feel like the stench is chasing me throughout the house. It’s upstairs, it’s downstairs, it taunts me in the laundry room and when I’m lying in my bed at night. Tearing up the carpet has revealed an extreme situation: pee is one hard working substance. It has bypassed the carpet and padding entirely and headed straight for the subfloor. You know that thing that holds your home together and protects the floor beams from the onslaught of my stiletto heels? Yeah, THAT subfloor.

Upstairs, the solution was obvious.

Step one: rip up gross wood layer on top of subfloor.
Step two: replace grossness with not gross wood.
Step three: paint walls and remove baseboards.
Step four: pat yourself on the back.

Downstairs, unfortunately, was another story. It seems ripping up the subfloor would be a much harder task, as there is only one layer and that layer is connected in a tongue in groove pattern. In non-construction terms: there is not enough time to rip it up and reinstall in one day’s time. ARG.

This, my dears, is where my new BFF comes to the rescue: Zinsser B-I-N pigmented shellac. It’s paint on steroids, will stick to anything it touches, and seals out all sorts of offensive stains and odors for an eternity. I located the offensive areas with my sniffer and covered them with BIN, never to hear from them again (I hope). New carpet arrived last week in each of our bedrooms and so far, I have enjoyed my stink-free life. Well, except for any time I walk towards the laundry room.

Also, I realize why the carpet place wanted an additional $1.50 per square foot to move furniture, take up and dispose of the old stinky carpeting. It’s because they don’t want to do it. I don’t either, but someone had to do it. So, I spent much of the last week on the floor with a box cutter in one hand and a roll of duct tape in the other, cursing at the carpet and tackless strip, both of which were soaked with urine. On the bright side, I now have some cool-looking blisters on my hands. At least I have that going for me, right? Right??