Ah, the romance of Valentine’s. All the red glittery redness, more hearts than a cardiologists’ convention. And CANDY. I shall be making a bee line to a local confectionaire for their after sale.
I knew it was that sweet season when I was dragged to consciousness from a really top form nap by a waft of stink. I’ve mentioned before we live surrounded on three sides by urban wilderness with coyotes, and hawks, and SKUNKS. They’re all out making baby skunks, so pretty much once or twice a week during this time of the year we can count on the pungent air of a pissed off polecat. Plus by the time you smell it, it’s to late to close the windows and try to create some cordon sanitaire, you’re trapped in the Skunk Zone.
Anyway, who cares, skunks need love too. So to all of you out tonight making ooo, ooo, baby noises here’s to you. And for the rest of us, here’s to us , too. At least we don’t smell like skunk. Or if you do, that may be why you’re here with the rest of us. Think about that.