So here’s the deal with last week: The Mister and his dad put an addition on the back of our house. And since the short people are what you might call a HINDRANCE in that sort of situation, we did all kinds of fun running around away from home last week.
So here’s the deal with this week: The Mister is working his regular job and then is doing sound for a musical each and every night and so it’s another edition of MAMA AND THE SHORTIES, LET’S DO THIS. And so I do not have a ton of time to do actual fun things like talk to grown-ups, and eat bonbons and stuff. Whatever. That’s life.
I called my Friend K From Up The Street after bedtime and we were chatting and it was so nicey nice nice and I went out to sit on the front step of my porch to add to the nicey nice nice. I lit the little candle that I have out there, and closed the door behind me so the house wouldn’t fill up with mosquitoes and moths and other flying critters. And we chatted, My Friend K and I, and it was nice.
I heard one of the cats coming up the sidewalk, and I thought to myself, Self, this is quite possibly the nicest night in the history of the world, and I am talking to a grown-up and sitting on my front step in the candlelight and the breeze and my kitty is going to sit by me.
And then I snapped my fingers to call the cat, because I was still on the phone and totally paying attention to My Friend K From Up The Street, and the cat came around the corner so I could see him all the way and
HOLY SHIT!!!! (I screamed) THAT’S NOT A CAT IT’S A SKUNK!!! AHHH!!!!
And the skunk looked at me, most crossly, and TURNED ITS BACK ON ME.
I was already scrambling to get up off the step and into the house, but I couldn’t open the porch door, and I looked over my shoulder and the skunk was looking over its shoulder and around its ginormous tail, and was doing this weird walking in place thing that could only mean it was going to blast me with its terrible, totally NOT NICEY, happy-evening-buzzkill stench.
I am not kidding when I say I could not get the porch door open. But my supersonic squealing or throwing my body against the door or else my pathetic pleading finally opened the door, and of course I totally fell onto the porch and scrambled again to get the door closed and then I just stood there, behind the door of THE SCREENED IN PORCH. You know, so I wouldn’t get hit by the spray if the skunk nailed the porch. And of course the skunk did not spray. He just wanted a good laugh at my expense. And off he skittered, into the blissful night, to meet up with his little skunky friends and laugh about the tall squeaky thing he ran into on his walk.