>Don’t Go Back to Skunkville.

25 Feb

>Our re-entry to Skunkville was complete a day or so ago. Miss 6, Beanie and I reluctantly left our safe haven (oh, we begged and kicked a bit, but the hubby was not to be swayed — and though I consider myself a feminist — even I can’t argue with the realities of the almighty-lack-of-dollar). But we extended the stay until the last possible minute, a late check out of 2 p.m. We lolled around a bit. I got a couple if things done for work (courtesy of the laptop, Crackberry and hotel-furnished high-speed internet). Then ventured out for lunch.

Lunch is worth mentioning here because we tried a new place. With an unreadable logo on the sign, we were drawn in by our hunger and lack of other options for quick healthy food on the west end. It ended up being a hybrid of old and new Boulder: basic-smoothie-and-wheatgrass-shot-health-food joint with a fancy French name, Anjou. We sat outside in the middle of a construction zone and watched a woman clicker-training her standard poodle. “What’s she doing, Mom?” the ever-inquisitive Miss 6 asked. “She’s training him.” “Oh. I think I know what she’s teaching him. I think she’s teaching him to lick.” I looked over just in time to see the dog licking the remnants of its last treat/reward from the trainer’s fingers. Sure. I think that’s exactly it.

So, back to the return to Skunkville. After our idyllic day strolling downtown, it was time to pack up and head home. Our Jeff Daniels clone (think Dumb and Dumber) valet made it a relatively painless departure and even threw in the $25 DO NOT DISTURB prairie dog as a bonus. Miss 6 made sure he knew she was S-I-X and asked him how old he was. (He was 40.)

We made a deal before we left. If the house was still awful, we’d go to the park. If it was bearable, we’d rest first and then hit the park. But before I got to the first stoplight, rest time had started on its own. Miss 6 was flopped over (despite her seatbelt) and snoring by the time we pulled into the driveway. And Beanie was out too.

The transformation was pretty amazing, considering. The hubby had done a quick session of battle of the skunk before heading in to work and it seemed to have paid off pretty well. I could actually breathe through my nose. I transferred the girlies from the car to bed and settled in for an afternoon of manic cleaning. That was Friday and it still isn’t complete. Last night, we went to change the sheets on our bed and were shocked and revolted to find that the clean sheets in the linen closet REEKED of skunk. Will it ever end?

PS: You can now comment without logging in – so bring it on! Either way, thanks for reading…:)

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One Response to “>Don’t Go Back to Skunkville.”

  1. Bay Street Rehab February 25, 2007 at 7:08 pm #

    >Love it!

    Like

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