So, I was going to report about the Fireman's Fair, but there really isn't that much to tell this year. We had lots of people come and enjoy it with us. The antique tractor parade was as quaint as usual, and the food was awesome- especially since I didn't have to cook any of it.
But new developments must be reported upon.
I'm terrified that a skunk is in our basement.
Yes, you read that correctly.
We woke up at about five this morning to the smell of skunk. I figured one got hit on the road out front and, considering it was the oldest Urchin's first day of school, that I would have to deal with disgusting, smelly road kill as we waited for the bus. But when we trudged down to the end of the driveway at 7:50, there were no bloody, flattened, carcasses to be seen. Which, as anyone knows, is a source of great rejoicing.
It's been windy here today, and I expected the smell to dissipate quickly. And most of it has.
Except at the side porch.
Where the only access to our dirt floor basement is located. With its doors wide open and a fan blowing up the stone steps.
I am a-feared that the smell is emanating from there.
I've reported my suspicions to The Man, because as repeated frequently here at Tongue In Cheek, at Chez Quinn the disposal of animals falls directly into Man-land territory. (Okay, there was that one carny fish incident and oh, the dead uber-mouse where I took matters into my own gloved hands, but for the most part, Man-land.)
So I will now have to update you with the skunk report once things get checked out. I'm sure you'll be waiting with bated breath.
As will I, citizens.
As will I.