Dr. Doolittle

At approximately 9:52pm, the following happened at the Ware House:

D: "N, Laura, come here a second."

M and I give up our fire side seats and walk to the front door. D opens the front door and a horrible nasty smell waffles in.

Me: "Gross!"

M: "Is that a skunk?!"

D: "Yes."

M: "Well then shut the door!"

Yes, D couldn't simply tell us he saw a skunk outside or that the motion detector lights went off. He had to open the door, and prove to us BY THE SMELL that a skunk had attacked our house. The past 10 minutes have consisted of repeatedly yelling at D and questioning his intellect, (because moments before he insisted that, despite speaking with the airlines who told him a flight was sold out, he was determined to find a seat somewhere on the internet) closing all windows, futilely spraying vanilla Febreeze everywhere and anywhere, and then questioning D's intellect some more.

I know we all have smelled a skunk. We have passed by them and their scents at over 60 mph. But this is a little different. The skunk smell is actually in the house, on my clothes and up my nose. And now, I'm eating a really poor imitation of vanilla smell (yes, it does seem possible to eat a smell.)

Seriously!

Update, 10:14pm ~ D is now wanting to prepare a skunk trap.

Update, 11:15pm ~ M: "It stinks in my house! Oh my god it stinks in my house!"

Update, 11:50pm ~ M: cough, cough "I think I'm choking. I think I'm going to die." Me, laughing: "That just earned you another spot on the blog." M: "Laura, please no!"