Three nights now I have been laying in bed and smelled skunk (and no, Amy - by "smelled skunk" I do NOT mean that I farted and pulled a covered wagon on Tom). Last night it happened again. We had an Indian summer - it has been in the mid 80s, and our window was open.
For the love of Charlie Carter (he was the stinky boy in class in the first grade), it was turrible, and it may as well have been in the bedroom with us. I SWEAR it wasn't me, Ames.
The Hubs and I both jumped up to look out the window and make sure there were no Peeping Le Pew's outside. Nothing. But still, skunkity unk in the boudoir. We decided to shut the window just in case one was in spraying distance.
I don't know if this particular skunk just likes to hang his smelly ass right outside of our window, or if he just happens to be strolling by in the midnight hour or WHAT, but dude need to get back to the woods from whence he came. Surrsly. Do NOT make me call animal control on your ass, Stink Face. I won't even think twice.
In honor of Sir Skunk A Lot, I'm wearing my own black and white vintage stripes a la Amy (and you're right - it IS the itchiest sweater in all the land). Still pretty cute, nonetheless.
Oh, I was also forced to do these photos in the bedroom because the morning I took them my mom had spent the night to help out with the kiddos while The Hubs was whooping it up in Georgia with his bro, and since mom doesn't know about the blog, and wouldn't understand why in the hell I take photos of myself every damn day to post on the interwebs, I thought it best to hide my stripes behind closed doors.