Skunked {A Cautionary Tale} | Confessions of a Stay-At-Home Mom

May 16, 2012

Skunked {A Cautionary Tale}

It was about 11:00pm when I trudged up the stairs to make my way to bed this past Friday night.  The kids were in dreamland and Hubby was finishing up a few more things downstairs before he hit the hay.  I quietly stepped into the bathroom to brush my teeth, when I noticed a really funny smell. Not funny like haha funny, but a curious unsettling kind of funny. But not as bad as this historically disgusting funny, which wasn't very funny at all.

We live in the Mushroom Capital of the World, so funny smells pervade our house on a weekly, if not daily, basis. But this smell did not have the fresh hint of manure.  It was something more diabolical, a smell I've sniffed before.  I thought perhaps a dirty diaper had made it's way into a corner only to be forgotten. A quick search turned up nothing. Maybe the tub or sink drains needed to be cleaned?  But I bravely whiffed each, and neither smelled suspect.

I stuck my head into the hallway, and the smell followed me. As I rounded the corner and made my way up the final set of stairs to my bedroom, I was overcome by the stench.  Suddenly I knew where I'd smelled this before.  Memories of whizzing by roadkill on the side of the street, I finally placed the smell.


I smelled gross, icky Skunk spray.

This time, though, it did not pass as quickly as it does when you drive over a dead skunk carcass on the road.  As I tried to ignore it and lay in bed waiting for Hubby to come up, I kept getting hit with new waves of grossness.  This was not one skunk who was spooked enough to squirt a quick stinkbomb.  No, this smelled like a gang of skunks had a deadly squirmish with a rival gang of skunks thrown in with a few dirty diapers and a trashcan filled with raw chicken that had been left out in a heatwave.  

I swear I could taste it in my mouth.

My mouth, people.

While I was ranting about the smell, the attic door, which is accessed from our bedroom, creaked open a bit.  The sound made me jump. And my mind, already woozy from a skunk-induced high, created a thought that filled my stomach with ice.

What if the skunk was in the house?

Like, in the attic.

The attic whose door is roughly 5 feet away from where I am sitting.

What if the skunk, reloaded with stank ammo, was making it's way down the attic steps toward my bedroom this very moment?

My mind raced to decide whether this assessment was logical: I guess a skunk could have made it's way into our attic. Squirrels and raccoons have been known to do this in other houses.  But those animals climb, right? I don't think skunks can climb.  And where would the sucker have gotten in anyway?  Would I have heard it scratching? What is my plan of attack if a skunk flies out of the attic door? I feel safe on the bed, but only in as much as a 5 year old convinces themselves they are safe from the monsters that reside beneath their sleeping haven.  If a skunk could get into my attic, then it could clearly jump onto my bed. FOR ALL THAT IS SACRED AND HOLY, what if it sprayed the entire room?  Do hose it down with tomato sauce? Wait. It's tomato juice, right? WHAT IF IT HAS RABIES?  IF THIS SMELL GETS ANY WORSE I AM GOING TO GO CUCKOO BANANAS CRAZYPANTS.

As I was about to grab a pocket knife from Hubby's nightstand to be at least somewhat prepared for battle, Hubby stomps up the stairs.  He doesn't notice my blood-drained face, wide eyes and rapidly-beating heart when he asks, "Do you smell that? What is that? Burning rubber?"

I take a moment to find my voice, so as not to make him panic when I relay that there is a good chance we might have a rabid skunk smellicating our attic.  "That smell is skunk, sweetie."

Realization colors his face. "OHHHHHH.  It smelled so bad downstairs!  I cuoldn't tell what it was!  Dang that smells bad."

Downstairs.  He could smell it downstairs.  Which means that the smell is probably outside, and not directly above us.

I make a decision right then and there not to detail my last 60 seconds of horror and speculation.

"Hey, the attic door keeps creaking open. Can you lock it?"  Better safe than sorry, right?

He rolls his eyes, as though it was a ridiculous request since I was only a few feet away. What he doesn't know if that I haven't regained motion in my legs yet.

"Sure. I can do that," and he closes the lock on the door.

Despite the fact that we were plagued by the invasive skunk stench all night, I feel asleep peacefully knowing that a skunk was, in fact, not in our attic.

But hey, it totally could have happened.

Don't judge me.


  1. My husband LOVES the smell of skunk, I on the other hand- gag atrociously when I smell skunk. Skunks are cute and all, but I kinda wish they were one animal on the verge of extinction simply for their smell. Gah!

  2. I nearly wet my pants laughing at that. You crack me up! I'm very happy there were no gangs of skunks in your attic.

  3. I am dying! You are hysterical :)!!


Hey! Share a thought or two - I'd love to hear from you! ~ Steph

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...