I Have Risen

It turns out we either got punked, or an even bigger animal came and took the dead animal away.

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Bug-N-A-Rug came to save the day yesterday, only there was no day to save.  So I probably looked like a stupid little girl crying, "Wolf...I swear there was one yesterday...".

 

Oh well.  At least my house no longer smells like butt.

 

The whole ordeal kind of reminds me of the time I had "Globus".  Globus is when you have the sensation of a lump in your throat.  Only...there's not one. It's basically the condition of not having a condition.  No one found this funnier than my sister when I was "diagnosed".  Thankfully I'm a globus survivor and my symptoms have long since disappeared.

 

 

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Kind of like my dead basement animal.

 

The real tragedy of the (faux?) dead beast was Grant's finger prints.  In his effort to search the ventilation ducts below our house, he had to take some apart.  When putting them back together with some sort of very serious caulk, he turned his hands a black tar-like consistency that would absolutely not come off.  Even after he used special soap, fingernail polish remover, Goo Gone, and sandpaper (!). 

 

I was so scared that he was going to destroy our sheets in his sleep with tar and/or blood, I kindly requested that he wear my purple glove liners to bed.  He furiously obliged and went to bed looking like a gay axe murderer.

 

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We were NOT allowed to laugh about it that night, but I giggled myself to tears behind every corner and door I could find when he wasn't looking.  It was quite a sight.

 

Now my house smells like roses and Rosie and all is right in the world!  We can just chalk that up to another adventure in home ownership!