Living in the country has its perks. Not only is it peaceful and relaxing, but each and every day is full of surprises. You never know what will happen from one day to the next. And trust me, you don’t have to live in the backwoods to experience the “incidents” we have had.
We had only been living in our newly-renovated home for about two months when we experienced “the incident.” As Estelle, from Golden Girls would say, “Picture this…”
It was a lovely Sunday evening in November, and Thanksgiving was the following week. I was preparing for my sister’s visit over the holiday by doing a bit of cleaning. My husband of ONE month was in the basement tinkering with tools, or whatever he does down there, when he heard the dogs start to bark.
Our intimidating and ever-protective dogs keep us safe from all those terrifying things found in the wilderness where we live. Really, we live five miles outside a small town in Kansas, and the dogs, a 24-pound, deaf Rat Terrier named Asha and a 22-pound, stick tight-infested Miniature Schnauzer named Newt, are the most loveable, non-threatening dogs you would ever meet.
Anyhow, my husband heard the dogs’ barks, and bravely went to investigate. He didn’t have to go far. Since he was already in the basement, he moved over to one of the window wells and saw something moving inside. He pulled the antique, wooden interior pane from the window just in time to hear the sound of something being sprayed. Any guesses as to what that spray was? No? Well, let’s just say it wasn’t a spray paint-wielding burglar hiding in the window well.
It was a skunk.
Upstairs, I was cleaning and preparing our home for my sister’s visit, completely oblivious to what had just happened in the basement. I was in the middle of vacuuming the stairs when my husband said, “We have to evacuate.”
“What do you mean, evacuate?” I said.
“The house just got sprayed by a skunk. We have to get out now. It’s going to be bad,” he claimed.
“I’m not leaving. It can’t be that bad if it sprayed outside. You’re overreacting,” I said.
“Trust me,” he said, “This isn’t the first time my house has been sprayed by a skunk. We’ve got to get out.”
He was acting as if we were on the verge of an attack by a foreign country or something.
“Fine,” I said, as the smell began to permeate through the first floor of our home. “Call your parents and I’ll go pack an overnight bag.”
So, in the quickest possible fashion, I grabbed my school laptop, a bag, and some clothes fresh from the dryer. We headed over to my new in-laws, who were only about ten minutes away, and prepared to spend the night. As soon as we walked in the door, my husband’s parents came out of their bedroom, at the complete opposite end of the house, and said, “Oh my gosh, you stink!”
“What?” I said, in complete dismay that we left our home a mere 10 minutes prior and already reeked of skunk. “We smell? You can smell us? It just happened!”
It didn’t matter. According to the in-laws, we reeked. My mother-in-law quickly lent me a nightgown and suggested we immediately wash our freshly-laundered clothing. So, I took everything out, threw it in the washing machine, and jumped in the shower. My husband was gracious enough to let me go first, so, as soon as I was finished, he jumped in and I threw all his clothes in the washing machine.
When the hubs finished washing away the skunk smell and was in the process of drying off, he asked for clean underwear.
“Oh no!” I said, “I packed some, but accidentally threw those in the wash with everything else. I’ll go ask your mom if we can borrow a pair of your dad’s.”
“Okay, but hurry up. I’m freezing!” he said.
They had already gone back to bed because all this excitement took place around 9:30 p.m., and my father-in-law gets up around 5:00 each morning. Not wanting to disturb them, I did not enter their bedroom. As I walked back toward the bathroom, however, I noticed clean laundry folded on the bench in their living room. Socks, underwear, t-shirts… anything we might possibly need.
“Super,” I thought, “No need to wake them up.”
So, I grabbed a pair of underwear and socks for my husband.
I headed down to the basement to get our “beds” ready (a.k.a. the couch and recliner), and my husband finished drying off and headed down the stairs. I just happened to look up and oh, my!
“These are really tight,” he said, standing in the middle of the stairs.
“Yeah, they are,” I agreed. I wonder how your dad fits in those?”
“I bet he thinks he’s so cool wearing these. What a freak.”
“Maybe they’re Chop’s”, I said.
“Maybe, but, they still seem too small for him, too.”
“And would he really wear his underwear that tight?” I asked.
“Well, it is Chop,” he said.
Chop, my brother-in-law, is a very carefree individual who has been known, on occasion, to leave items of clothing everywhere. It doesn’t matter what it is – shoes, socks, sweats, whatever – if he wore it to your house, chances are, something of his is going to stay after he leaves.
The next morning our clothes were clean and a little less “skunky” smelling. We both showered again, and as we were leaving my husband’s mom noticed a pair of socks and underwear on the bathroom floor. She asked my husband if those were his and he explained, “No, I think they are Chop’s.”
At that moment, I noticed the look on my mother-in-law’s face. It was very odd. She was just looking at the garments on the floor, and then turned to her eldest son and said, “Oh, okay.”
Hmm. That was weird, I thought, But, didn’t dwell on it. After all, We had a skunk smell to extricate from our home.
Off we went to open every door and window in the house trying to get rid of the smell. And, folks, let me tell you, if you have never had this memorable experience, I advise you to avoid it at all costs! The smell was so overpowering, it didn’t even smell like skunk any more. It was closer to the smell of burnt onions. It was awful! Even my computer smelled like skunk. I hadn’t taken it out of the case and, when I returned to school two days later, I opened it up to smell that horrible odor, yet again!
Fast forward to Friday evening. My husband and I were enjoying a lovely Friday night at home when the phone rang. It was my brother-in-law. He asked to speak with my husband, so I handed the phone over to him. The ensuing conversation went something like this.
Brother-in-Law: “Dude, you’re sick.”
Husband: “What are you talking about?”
Brother-in-Law: “I just talked to Andrea last night and she said you wore Ma’s underwear.”
Andrea, their first cousin, is a beautician and was chatting with Pa, my father-in-law, about the activities from earlier in the week.
Husband: “Whatever! Those were your underwear that you left the last time you were there.”
Brother-in-Law: “No, dude, I wear boxers.”
Husband: “What?!?!?!??!!??!?!?!? No you don’t! You’re just saying that to mess with me!”
Brother-in-Law: “No, I’m not. Call Mom and Dad and ask them.”
Husband: “I’m calling Mom.”
Brother-in-Law: “Go ahead,” laughing hysterically, “They’re the ones who told me.”
Hearing just my husband’s portion of the conversation, I quickly figured out what had happened and began to laugh hysterically. I will admit I also felt a little guilty since I was the one who picked up the underwear and didn’t realize they were WOMEN’s panties, but now it made sense – that was why they were so tight!
Husband: “Oh my God! I wore Mom’s underwear!”
Me: “Call your parents, just to be sure. Chop could just be saying that to get you all riled up.”
Husband: “Mom? Is it true? Those were your underwear?” (My husband NEVER calls his mom “Mom” unless it’s serious – he always refers to her as “Ma.”)
Ma: Laughing so hysterically she can’t talk, so she hands the phone to Pa, who is also laughing hysterically, but manages to speak a few words.
Pa: “Yes, those were your mom’s underwear.”
Husband: On the verge of having an emotional breakdown, laughs hysterically to keep from crying: “Oh my God! Why didn’t you guys tell me I wore her underwear?!?!?!!”
Pa: “We didn’t know until after you guys had already left. Then when we figured it out, we rolled on the floor laughing. Ma didn’t have the heart to tell you.”
So, that’s the story of the skunk and the underwear, otherwise known as “The Underwear Incident.” I promised my husband I would NEVER share this story with anyone.
Just kidding! I asked if I could tell this story on my blog, and he gave me his blessing. What kind of wife do you think I am?!!!!