warning: unappetizing weekend dinner/brunch chit-chat ahead:

What is it about the ladies' room at the main branch of the Brooklyn Public Library that makes it consistently quite possibly the worst-smelling ladies' room I've ever visited?

Is it just that right combination of dirty diapers and incontinent toddlers and visits by people who lost their sense of smell (and memory of when they last changed their underwear) decades and decades ago?

I mean, we all know what poo smells like, and we all know what a bathroom not cleaned in recent memory smells like (you know, that sort of bachelor's urinal smell) -- but this is its own thing altogether, and I have to hold my breath the whole time I'm in there to keep from losing my lunch (and thus adding to the aroma).