Abu Dhabi Police has called on drivers to be careful and use alternative routes
uae10 hours ago
Nearly everyone was awake and milling about, perfectly distraught by the suffocating fog that hung heavy in the air — aside from the time we huddled together watching bad TV and cupping our hands over our noses in a futile attempt to breathe.
Of course, I became convinced this was how we’d die, curled up in a corner or an abandoned blanket fort, leading crime scene investigators to embark upon a frenzied mission to find a vat of Kool-Aid that didn’t exist. And after wandering around the yard like a fool, inhaling the stench that lived there as well, it became apparent to me that Iran had gathered the most godawful-smelling skunks on the planet, coaxed them inside a giant warhead and dropped said abomination directly upon my home.
Since there was no other logical explanation, I turned on the news, fully expecting to see video clips of Pepé Le Pew-inspired creatures invading my neighbourhood. A call to the State Police came next, as one might expect. I can only hope the officer who answered the phone wasn’t injured when he likely fell to the floor, seized with laughter.
In the midst of my catastrophising panic, however, I flung open windows and doors, combed the attic and garage, crawled in closets and thrust my head inside the dishwasher — in hopes that I would find that which sought to corrode my sorry soul, one singed nose hair at a time. Eventually, I ordered my husband to the dreaded basement — to slay the fetid beast that surely lurked there, but not before I instructed him to stand in roughly 73 different places and sniff.
“Is it worse here…or over here? How about next to the stereo? Go stand over there and report back.” The absurdity of this exercise cannot be underestimated, nor can the nauseating toxicity of our air quality that night.
In any event, the culprit was, indeed, an ill-tempered skunk — one inclined to target the air intake gadgetry of unsuspecting heat systems. Translation: The foul aroma plagued our home and every cussed thing in it for roughly 83 hours — not that anyone counted. Okay, we counted. In the end, vinegar was our saving grace.
· Planet Mom: It’s where Melinda lives. Visit her at: www.melindawentzel.com and www.facebook.com/NotesfromPlanetMom
· The author is the winner of the 2009-2010 Mid-Atlantic Community Papers Association Editorial Award for Original Writing — Category: Personal Column.
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