The events leading up to this post are gruesome, to say the least. Tonight, I did something I've never done before, and I'm pretty sure that I may be judged for, but alas - I must come clean.
Let's start this story by going back to Wednesday afternoon...
Wednesday lunchtime
We were pleasantly surprised to find a birthday coupon/card from one of our favorite restaurants in the area (in fact, the place Mark popped the question in December 2005!) - Kinbrae Supper Club! $10 off if you buy 2 entrees, $10 in value or greater.
FF to Friday
Friday night, Mark and I decided to take advantage of that great coupon we received on Wednesday, and head on out to Kinbrae Supper Club, about 20 miles away. We got dressed up and made the uneventful 20 mile trek, except it was actually a slightly eventful trip, because we accidentally murdered an innocent baby pheasant along the way (Aww!)
We moved on, and shortly thereafter arrived at Kinbrae, where we enjoyed yet another one of their yummy meals (my FAVORITE Pork loin with cranberry chutney, and Mark had the ribs). However, it came time to pay, and I handed the waitress the coupon and my credit card. She returned a few minutes later to inform me that the coupon was actually expired. Riddle me that?! So I put up a silent argument with the waitress - even showed them Mark's ID to prove that his birthday was, in fact, on August 1st, and reiterated that we had JUST received the card 2 days previously.
Our arguments meant nothing, unfortunately, and we walked away with a useless coupon and feeling pretty crummy about our evening. We'd been stood up, killed a poor, useless bird, and now been "had" at one of our favorite restaurants.
FF to Sunday morning
After a great Saturday down in Humboldt visiting with the family, we got up on Sunday morning to head to church. As I was walking out to the car, I was looking at the grill on the front of the car when I saw a feather. I looked a little closer and realized that when we hit the pheasant, it didn't go under the car and off the side of the road. Oh no! It went into the air intake chamber of our Grand Prix!
I made Mark get it out of there, then wash his hands, then we were off to church, after which we promptly forgot about the bird entirely.
FF to Monday evening
Boy was it EVER hot out Monday. MISERABLE. SO miserable, in fact, that I did not leave the house except to go to and from work, and home for lunch. After work, I came home and promptly went inside, basking in the cool comfort of our home for the next 4 hours. However, around 8:15, Mark called to see what I was up to, and suggested that perhaps I mow the lawn. So I did.
However, before I mowed the lawn, I opened the garage door and was almost knocked right off my feet! The stench was so incredibly awful that I thought I was going to vomit. And I almost did! I ran inside quickly and grabbed a bunch of bags to put the rotting carcass in, hoping to seal up the stench so I could manage to mow our poorly-neglected lawn. I figured it would be best if I put it just inside the garage so that it wouldn't be polluting the neighborhood any longer. (Of course, I later learned that this was probably the worst of my ideas). I told myself I'd have Mark take care of it when he got home.
Except after I was inside in the cold, stenchless house I call home, the thought slipped my mind.
FF to Tuesday - Lunch time
I check the mail and find a letter addressed to me in handwriting I don't recognize from Dundee, MN. I can't figure out who I know from Dundee, MN, so I open the letter. It's from Kinbrae Supper Club, with an apology note and a $10. SCORE!
But then my mind races to the events of that night - the feelings of anger boiling up inside, and then subsiding. The revelation that I no longer will need to write a very direct letter to the owners explaining how poorly we were treated that night. And then I remember.....the Bird.
FF to Tuesday Afternoon
This is the part where Mark finds out that I put the dead, rotting carcass in the bags and in our garage...with the door closed. I'm pretty sure he was thinking what a crazed lunatic his wife is - considering any country boy would know that you don't put dead, rotting roadkill in a bag, tie it shut and stick it in your home. (In my defense...I didn't grow up on a farm in SW Minnesota, and while I do recall the occasional possum or racoon lying dead in the road as a child, and I wasn't the one who hit it and lugged it to our home in the car!)
FF to right now
So it's now 10:16pm on Tuesday evening, and about 15 minutes ago, we got back from our covert mission: eliminate the carcass.
To be honest, it felt a little forbidden and awful - like we'd just actually murdered something and were trying to cover it up. But I've been telling myself all day that had the bird not hitched a ride back with us, it would've been on the side of the road anyway, right?
So we drove out in the country - the 4-bagged bird hanging out the window - far away from anyone's home, and we dumped it. (Rather I dumped it. I did it! ME! As in Mark drove the getaway car and I almost puked while dumping out the rotten carcass remains in the ditch, and then gathering up the containment bags and putting them in another containment bag so
as not to litter)
Thank goodness I remembered to bring the apple cinnamon fragrance spray! We made it out alive, but only just barely.
Like I said - you wouldn't believe me if I told you!
