By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher
Questionable purchases: Lime and Rope.
There I was exhausted after a 12-hour road trip west coming down from a massive, ugly Ding Dong high, and it hit me in my nose like a prize fighter upper cut: death. My keen sense of hound dog smell picked it up before even entering the house.
“Something’s dead,” I proclaimed to a confused Mr. Kaminski as I entered the garage. I believe initially he thought I was talking about him. “I know that smell. It’s decomp.”
“I don’t smell anything,” was his tentative retort. I feel certain he looked around sheepishly to make sure I wasn’t armed.
As I walked in the house, the onerous odor became stronger. Like a bloodhound on a trail, I dropped everything out of my hands and sniffed out the culprit. The trail led to the back porch – my back porch, my happy hour haven, my overall happy place. I opened the door to the porch and was assaulted by the overwhelming smell of the grim reaper.
“It’s here. I found it!”
Now Mr. Kaminski was not in the mood for my sleuthing skills at 9 pm after our full day of travel that began at 6 am two states ago. I, however, was on it. I turned on all the lights and looked under all the furniture for the assaulting aroma. Nada. Not a carcass in sight.
I begrudgingly went to bed but not before I lit candles all over the house and opened all windows not facing the offensive odor.
The next morning, I was on it like a duck on a Junebug. I do not appreciate any critter making my home its final resting place, unless, of course, I did the deed. Before we left in the spring, I liberally scattered moth balls under the porch as my neighbor had seen a skunk lurking about. Now why I thought stinky things would be effective with a stinky animal is now a consideration, but at the time, I saw it as a solution.
I made Mr. Kaminski, who was not in for the stinky scavenger hunt, try to look under the porch only to determine it wasn’t possible to actually see. Still in problem solving mode, I texted my next door neighbor who spent his career as a game warden. Yes, I know he specialized in living critters, but I needed help with the stench. My query was what to purchase to actually make the assaulting aroma dissipate. His answer? Lime.
I went to town in search of lime and some rope that Mr. Kaminski needed for a project. Of course, I had to inquire at the Walmart for said items as the limes I normally purchase are sliced and compliment Tito’s. Let me just say that when you ask a sales associate at the Walmart to help you locate rope and lime, you get looks. Or more accurately, Mr. Kaminski gets curious looks of the “if you need help” variety, give me a sign brother.
Sweet Carl, the game warden, offered to come over and help with the dastardly duty. Boards came up as crawling underneath was not an option, and finally, the culprit was discovered. It was a skunk, long gone, but still a stinky situation. They couldn’t actually remove the remains, but lime was generously applied while Colleen, Carl’s adorable wife, and I generously consumed wine in support of the mission.
Lesson learned? Keep some lime on hand as it really does camouflage odors. You just never know when you might need it. See y’all next week – on the porch!
Patti Parish-Kaminski
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