Its amazing how something that happens is such a brief little moment of time can have such a huge effect on the hours that follow. Always unplanned things. The planned events seem to often have much less of an impact.
Two nights ago. Rather, one very early morning ago, roughly 2:47am bedroom sleeping time, I was awakened. But even before that time I had awoken up to an odd noise in the house. Or so I thought it was in the house. I thought I heard a weird non-dog barking noise coming from down the hall. Almost as though something had happened to one of our dogs. So I got up and ran out of our room tripping over myself to check on our dogs. They were quielty sleeping under my bed, but proceeded to trip over me also, we all stumbled and I realized the only noises I was hearing were in my head. Elmer mumbled for me to go to sleep. Which I eventually did.
I joke sometimes that I haven't really had a good nights sleep in now 12 years. Many mamas might say the same thing. Different time span. Its not that my babes aren't finally sleeping through the night, (well usually, but not always) it's that I have these sleep instincts that keep me up or rather wake me up at the littlest sound. Always wondering if someone woke up. Someone crying, someone lost in the new house. Someone sleep walking. Someone hungry. Someone thirsty. Someone barking at the neighbor's cat. Someone going to the bathroom and walked into a wall. Someone not having a good dream. Someone not being able to sleep at a friends house and needing to be picked up. Someone sleeping at our house and not being able to sleep and needing to go home. Someone recovering from knee surgery and can't get comfortable. Someone nervous about a golf tournament and waking up at 4am to watch reruns and do push-ups. Someone getting sprayed by a skunk. I'm acutely aware of these sounds. Only rarely will I not wake up until the said someone is leaning over my wanting to be REM sleeping body and see the out line or hear the voice in need.
But I'm pretty used to not sleeping all the way through. So I think that is why I typically allow for myself to have more than 8 hours in my said bed. Because not all of it is sleeping. And I'm ok with that.
But not this time.
At 2:47am early this past Thursday, someone woke me up in one of my most middle of the wake ups. Our mischievious dog, Zepp, came running into the house after slipping out at some previously unknown time, bolting through the doggie door, crying. Crying. CRYING! Our other less mischievious dog, Coyo, who is slightly less likely to wander off and get into trouble dog began barking at him and it only took me about 5 seconds, maybe less to start barking my own orders for both of these dogs to get out of the house, through the french doors in our bedroom that lead to the back yard. Zepp had been sprayed by a skunk, in his face and quarantine had begun a little too late. 20 seconds or less in the house and we were completely infested and the skunk might as well have come into our house himself and sprayed our whole existance. Or so it seemed.
Between the moment he got sprayed and the moment he got kicked out of the house, he managed to trail that stink with him stopping on our Oriental rug that I received from my mom upon her passing (Emphasis for drama purposes) located in the sunroom. Rolled on it to stink it up. First stop through doggie door. Second stop he passed through the family room, red room, Elmer's room (all the same place but with more than one name) and managed to roll and or release his stink on our oversized handmade Russian floor rug. Zepp then proceeded to go into our bedroom, under our bed and attempt to rub all his stink on our already sub-par carpet. He rubbed for all of 10 seconds or less. But the rancid, putrid remained.
I proceeded to pace the house trying to find a spot that didn't stick. Closed the kids bedrooms to lock of the smell. Saw Lola walking from her side of the house to the bathroom. Moaning about why it smelled so bad. Covering her mouth and nose. Watching Zepp roll miserably in the yard. Shoving his head and face into the ground. Crying moaning, sticking to high heaven. He can't understand the awfulness of the smell. Coyo, looking at him, as if shaking his head in doggie wonder. How could he do something like that? His brother from another mother. Now they are both quarantined. Coyo by default of being a dog. Sent to sleep outside, as if he were a dog.
As Elmer and I tried to go back to bed, we had to breathe through the sheets and only barely able to take any air into our lungs with out the burn of skunk through every open pore on our body.
Elmer had to leave the house that morning at 5:45 for work. He showered and put on clean clothes from the closet and left. The folks at the golf course could smell him. Him. That skunk. That trouble ass skunk.
So home he came later. To find me cursing and pacing the house. Trying to figure out the best way to deal with this. Send Azalea to a friends house and Lola and Tigo to read on the trampoline out back.
Oh did I mention that we had an appointment with a Realtor to come look at our house to put it for sale? Miserable. I canceled. Postponed rather. I've been trying to be more mindful of signs. Is this a sign? Am I not good at reading the subtle signs? Did this mean replace the carpet, we were on the edge about, or don't sell the house? Must sell house, sadly. Or not.
So the day spent cleaning. Scrubbing. Surfing the interwebs for info on how to rid skunk smell. But there isn't a lot of talk about removing it from your house. Skunks don't typically go into people's homes. It's all about the dog smell. Yeah, I need to deal with that also.
But finally Baking Soda. Then carpet deodorizer Baking Soda. Oh and using the worst vacuum in the world that breaks and overheats every minutes. Then baths for both the dogs. Apparently Coyo didn't mind wrestling with his brother dog that smelled like skunk, so that he could smell like skunk too. So they both need a Baking Soda, Hydrogen Peroxide, Dish detergent combination removal. Ugg.
The smell in the house is better. One dog smells better. Zepp doesn't reek odor when you walk past him. But I'm not into giving him the usual ear rubs and kisses on the head. He still has the stink. Poor guy has his sense of smell messed up too. He can't smell right.
We've been skunked.
Could be worse.