I don’t drive every day. On weeks without scheduled court appearances, depositions or meetings, I’ve occasionally left my car sitting idle in the garage for several consecutive days. As it happens, this was one of those weeks. I last took the auto for a spin five evenings ago, on Sunday, when I escorted my lovely wife to a local eatery for dinner.
That was a fine meal. For more than a month, I’d suffered an inexplicable craving for Salmon Teriyaki; and lo and behold I found it on the restaurant’s menu. The dish did not disappoint either. Without a doubt, I could’ve scarfed down the entire entrée had I not already stuffed myself with appetizers and a salad. No worries though. I felt just as happy to take half the plate home as leftovers to enjoy the next night.
Atypically, I forgot about my leftover salmon until today. What jogged my memory, oddly, was the garbage. We store our trash container in the garage. Over the course of a week the bin can accumulate quite an odor, particularly in the stifling heat and humidity of summer. I noticed an especially rancid smell wafting through the garage this morning, as I strode to my car on my way to pick up a client for his deposition. Because the stench smelled fishy – as in long dead decaying fishy – I immediately concluded that my wife, as so often occurs, had disposed of my leftovers before I got the chance to eat them.
Boy was I pissed at Sophia. Even so, being a good husband I decided to spare her sensitive nostrils from the stink by carting the garbage receptacle outside. Yet the bin’s departure failed to noticeably improve the garage’s overall bouquet. I learned why a few minutes later, when I climbed into my car and nearly keeled over from the same scent of rancid fish magnified tenfold. It turned out the Styrofoam box containing my Salmon Teriyaki was sitting on the floor behind the driver’s seat where I’d placed it Sunday night, and then forgot about it!
As you might expect, I asked my client to drive us to the deposition in his vehicle. I didn’t see any other option, since I couldn’t chance him mistaking the reek for a decomposing corpse in my trunk. As I saw it, it’d be much easier defending a deposition in the comfort of my adversary’s office … than from the local jail’s lockup.