Mostly on what I like to call, "No Shower Saturdays".
Only quitters shower on days they don't have to work.
I prefer to look like this on Saturdays while I watch documentaries and fold other people's underwear.
But this is a story about the worst I have ever smelled.
Sometimes when I get down, I like to dance it out. I dance the shit outta that sadness until I am so happy that I throw up.
But this is one instance I decided to drive my sadness. It doesn't seem to have the same effect when you say, "I automobiled the shit outta that sadness". I don't even recall what I was upset about but I am sure it was something extremely horrible. Like being told I loaded the dishwasher when the dishes inside were already clean. You have to clear your mind after that kind of abuse.
I cranked up some Korn (okay maybe it was the Bye Bye Birdie soundtrack, no matter) and took off driving. Not caring where I was going. Not caring what beings were walking the earth that night. Not caring about the souls of the divine righteousness.
I got really carried away there for a second and I'm sorry.
I was weeping and looking at myself in the mirror. I do this often because my eyes get a really pretty color of green when I cry.
Oh look! I have a picture of me crying. Don't worry, Mom. I'm happy 86% of the time.
|Nevermind the sympathy...look how green my eyes are!|
So I'm staring at my disastrously pretty eyes, when all off a sudden I thumpity thump over something in my car. I break a skull on the front tires and the ribs on the back tires.
I feel like killing a small animal seems appropriate for the mood at hand so I keep driving and checking myself out in my mirror.
I'm suddenly murdered in the mouth with a thick and smelly taste I had not had the pleasure of experiencing before.
I start screaming because I cannot breathe the air in my car. It's like a cartoon smell: thick and yellow and pungent and lingering.
I pull over in the middle of a scary dark road and roll down my window to take some deep breaths into my asthma-lungs. The air outside is no better. AND it's cold. So I blast my heater to warm myself up.
This is when I get murdered in my mouth again. But this time, it's like murder that got nuked in the microwave. Think about how much worse a pile of dog poo is when it's hot and melted instead of frozen and dried out. It's an entirely different entity.
It fills my hair and clothes and car. I run away from my car, swinging my hair around and yelling words my daddy shouldn't know I say.
I come upon the deliverer of the smell. It's half of a dead skunk on the road. The other half is on my tire, in my heater, and subsequently in my mouth and hair.
I go back to my car and turn it off. I turn off the heater and ask Jesus to allow me to safely turn my car on without being blasted with roadkill revenge. He obliges and I turn the car on, thankful the smell has finally escaped my vehicle and I can shower the rest of the vengeful skunk death out of my hair when I get home.
As I get home, I stop in my driveway and hose my dead friend the half-skunk off my tire before I pull it into the garage. The smell was gone but I didn't want decomposing animal on my tire.
I pulled my car into the garage and came inside the house. Husband with one T met me in the entryway to make sure I wasn't still a sad lollipop but I stopped him from embracing me.
Mary: Hey, don't hug me, I hit a sk-
Mat: ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! MARY! What the hell is wrong with you. GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!
My confusion was present because apparently my nose and the odor had decided to become buddies and get used to each other. I still smelled as bad as when my face first got murdered, but my nose hairs had been singed off and my brain adapted to my new life as the smelliest creature in the land.
I was in the garage like a wet golden retrievor, trying to figure out where I would live.
Mat: (through the door) Mary- what is going on?
Mary: I hit a skunk with my car and then I invited the dead skunk soul into my vehicle by turning on my heater. Do you smell me or the car?
Mat: YOUR CAR IS IN THE GARAGE? MARY OH MY GOSH PULL IT OUT. YOU ARE SMELLING UP THE ENTIRE HOUSE.
I pull the car out, ashamed out of my grotesqueness. When people drive by with sympathetic faces I scream at them "LOOK AWAY. I'M HIDEOUS. GO LIVE YOUR LIVES!"
I called Mat from my cell phone and convinced him I couldn't wash with the hose because it was 21 degrees and I needed soap that smelled like flowers. He said to run to the bathroom as fast as I could and to not let any air in with me. I had to take my clothes off in the garage and then sprint to the shower, which he already had running for me.
Mat: Don't turn that down.
Mary: But it's scalding my skin and burning my flesh.
Mat: Yeah, but I still think it's neccessary.
I washed my hair 4 times. Mat gets me some dish soap, we talked and thought maybe the dish soap would be more concentrated. It still smelled.
So we tried laundry detergent.
When that didn't work I just rubbed lawn fertilizer all over my now balding head. (okay, no I didn't. But everything else is true!)
I eventually told him he was going to have to accept the new me. I got out of the shower and blew my hair dry. The whole time I was blow drying my hair, Mat was staring at the ceiling and whispering to Father God.
Mary: I HAVE TO GO TO BED. IT'S 3 AM AND I HAVE TO WORK IN 4 HOURS.
Mat: I know, baby. I know. But...um....do you think you could sleep in the guest room? I'm sure it just needs more time.
Mary: I seriously cannot still smell.
Mat: I think the soap made it worse. It's like it just made it mad and more determined.
I slept in the guest room. When I went to work the next morning I smelled just as strongly. I had to tell everyone at work to disregard my stench.
The president of the bank kindly asked me to move my car. When that failed to stop the branch from stinking, he sent me home.
I had to park my car blocks away for the next 4 to 5 days. I wasn't able to use my heater for over a month. I think I asked people all the way out to 180 days "Can you smell me? Do I smell like dead skunk revenge?" because I was so paranoid. It was the gift that kept on giving.
The moral of the story is...if you ever hit an animal while in the middle of a drama/cryfest in your vehicle...immediately turn off your heater or air conditioner or else your spouse and employer will detest the very smell of you for 3 to 4 weeks.