Season of....The Skunk?

When my husband goes out of town for business, I drive the kid hauler. It is no secret that I loathe this vehicle. Today being no exception...

Last night, I took Thing 1 to her piano lesson. We came home, like normal. What was not normal was that this child did not close the side panel door - which she normally jumps at the opportunity to do (pushing a button that makes a car door close is mad fun, you know). As part of my nightly shop closing - checking all external doors of our house to ensure they were locked, turning off lights, starting the dishwasher - it never dawned on me to go outside and look at the far side of our minivan to ensure that the door was closed.

Upon taking my belongings out to the car to start it this morning, I noted that the car had been aired out. Ahhh, the smells of fresh air! No longer did this minivan smell like an armpit. Interesting...I look around. Oh hell! That door had to have been open all night long! Good thing the idiot light didn't stay on alerting me to this fact, or not only would I be admiring the fresh outdoorsy scent in the car; I'd be cursing my kid for needing a jump.

Then, the funny thought occurs to me: I've seen Tommy Boy. You know the part, where the deer they think is dead in the back seat wakes up and rips their car apart, they careen wildly around the road and all that jazz. I immediately think of all the skunks I've seen on the side of the road lately. Hmmm. There must be an abundance of skunks. OMG! What if one is in the loathed Silver Bullet? What if it is related to a badger and attacks me while I drive down the highway, attempting to rip my face off (at this point you should realize I am not one with nature or "critters").

I do what any self-respecting woman does at this point. I chose to ignore this possibility and close all the doors, start the car and drive off, all the while pretending to be oblivious of the potential intruder in my vehicle. Intruder? Christ, there could even be a knife-weilding lunatic homeless man in the back hatch! At this point, I vow never to make fun of the idiot bimbo in any horror movie who gets in an unlocked car without checking her backseat. I mash the gas.

Thankfully, I arrived at work; face in tact, no stab wounds, car still smelling wildly fresh (thinking to myself if it had been a skunk or a homeless dude, my car would have smelled to high heaven). Thanks for worrying though.