What an eventful weekend at Fletcher Manor. A rather pungent odor started wafting through the home, becoming tortuous whenever the air conditioning was on, kicking in a bushel basket of nasal nastiness. What, pray tell, could it be? Something had done gone up and died dead under our house. One small problem. Every portal to the underbelly of the beast was less
Allow me to cut in here, fellas. This is the Sportswife tapping on the keys. Look, here is the deal. There was a dead... something... under the house. What is Fletcher's first response? "Um, should we call Animal Control? Will they come get it?" What?!? My answer to that was... "Get your big butt under the house and find it." This is what happened next...
... was less than large enough for my "muscular build." Add in the fact, I didn't think I could squeeze in the Sam Adams (Light!!!) 
with me through the hole.
with me through the hole.Seriously, look at the size of that thing (Boing!)... there's no way I can gyrate my girth through there to tame the wild beast fouling up our air-waves.
I love cameras. Why? Because. I have photographic proof that Fletcher was half way in the hole to the deep dark nothingness when he wussed out and back peddled like a little girl! We measured him... the biggest part of him is his shoulders... Was he in or out of the hole??? YOU tell ME!!!
Wow. Fletcher is making this so easy for me. Had I already mentioned his biggest circumferance area was through the hole, did I tell you what a conniption he had once in there? "Sweetie, I am having trouble breathing!" After he crawfished out he said, "No, we will call someone tomorrow and have them come out and look, but I am NOT getting back under there!" Here is a photo of me showing you exactly what Fletcher looks like sucking his thumb and petting his blankey on the side of his wittle head!!!
Have I mentioned that I can lift 100 pounds over my head? I qualified for the state track meet in the two-mile. I have hair... ALL OVER MY BACK. I am man, hear me snore! Carry on, my wayward-wiiii-iiii-iiii-fe.
Okay, here's the deal. Once the smallest human alive was able to squeeze into the hole, after deducing the cause of the smell that was olfactously disgusting was nowhere in sight---we resorted to plan B. Have I mentioned while she was snaking around underneath the bowel's of Fletcher Manor, I took this pretty picture?
Time to switch sides of the house... and get up close and personal with the source of our misery. Sports-wife. Not that she's the source of our misery. Not at all. Nope. Not her.
Are you talking? Anyway... Yeah, I was going to have to go around to the otherside of the house and crawl into yet another hole to hell... and this was serious. Giant green dukey flies buzzing about and the funk of forty thousand years... I barreled in telling the girls (daughters) "See girls! This is what you have to do when you are a woman... take care of yourself and not wait for no man to rescue you!!!"
That is when I found... it. Of course, Fletcher (wanting to swoop in and steal all the glory) says, "Aly, here... move over and let me get that." Oh, I don't think so! "JUST go get me a shovel and a trash bag, boy!" While he skipped off to the shed, I fought it with my bare hands! And drug it out by the tail, thrashing and biting!!!
Click here to see "Beauty and the Beast!"
I love cameras. Why? Because. I have photographic proof that Fletcher was half way in the hole to the deep dark nothingness when he wussed out and back peddled like a little girl! We measured him... the biggest part of him is his shoulders... Was he in or out of the hole??? YOU tell ME!!!
Is there any rational person viewing this that believes I could go any deeper into the abyss without popping my shoulders and hips out of socket? And think of those poor lily's! Would you want to be where they are right now? Think of the bulbs, people... theirs and mine! Oh, yeah. One other tidbit, there was a post six-to-eight inches inside the hole that would require a teeny, tiny person to shape-shift their way underneath the house. If only there was someone standing around taking pictures with a beautiful, teeny, tiny body...
Wow. Fletcher is making this so easy for me. Had I already mentioned his biggest circumferance area was through the hole, did I tell you what a conniption he had once in there? "Sweetie, I am having trouble breathing!" After he crawfished out he said, "No, we will call someone tomorrow and have them come out and look, but I am NOT getting back under there!" Here is a photo of me showing you exactly what Fletcher looks like sucking his thumb and petting his blankey on the side of his wittle head!!!Have I mentioned that I can lift 100 pounds over my head? I qualified for the state track meet in the two-mile. I have hair... ALL OVER MY BACK. I am man, hear me snore! Carry on, my wayward-wiiii-iiii-iiii-fe.
Oh, I'll carry on. And on, and on and on... SO... What is a woman to do when her
husband won't just man up, put on his big boy panties and get the job done??? Well, she's just got to do it herself. Damn straight! Now, please understand, Fletcher tried to do the gallant thing and insist that I not climb under the house. "I will lay down in front of that hole if I have to!" He bellows... I think we already saw that. What just gets me is that you and I both know he was protesting with such vigor because he didn't want to get shown up by a girl!
husband won't just man up, put on his big boy panties and get the job done??? Well, she's just got to do it herself. Damn straight! Now, please understand, Fletcher tried to do the gallant thing and insist that I not climb under the house. "I will lay down in front of that hole if I have to!" He bellows... I think we already saw that. What just gets me is that you and I both know he was protesting with such vigor because he didn't want to get shown up by a girl! So in I went...
Oh, for a two-by-six, a hammer and twelve concrete nails! Kidding... I kid because I love.
Okay, here's the deal. Once the smallest human alive was able to squeeze into the hole, after deducing the cause of the smell that was olfactously disgusting was nowhere in sight---we resorted to plan B. Have I mentioned while she was snaking around underneath the bowel's of Fletcher Manor, I took this pretty picture?Time to switch sides of the house... and get up close and personal with the source of our misery. Sports-wife. Not that she's the source of our misery. Not at all. Nope. Not her.
Are you talking? Anyway... Yeah, I was going to have to go around to the otherside of the house and crawl into yet another hole to hell... and this was serious. Giant green dukey flies buzzing about and the funk of forty thousand years... I barreled in telling the girls (daughters) "See girls! This is what you have to do when you are a woman... take care of yourself and not wait for no man to rescue you!!!" That is when I found... it. Of course, Fletcher (wanting to swoop in and steal all the glory) says, "Aly, here... move over and let me get that." Oh, I don't think so! "JUST go get me a shovel and a trash bag, boy!" While he skipped off to the shed, I fought it with my bare hands! And drug it out by the tail, thrashing and biting!!!
Click here to see "Beauty and the Beast!"
4 comments:
Ahhhhh! What is that? A possum? Tell me the Fletcher clan from Arkie didn't come down to barbecue it for din din.
i think i posted a comment..but it was on some sort of pink page..
Let me tell you something right now. She can make fun of you, make fun of me, make fun of Bob Costas. I don't care. I'm not crawling under that house. Like Jodie Lowrey, I'm on your side, Tim.
She can be proud of herself if she wants to, and it's a nice blog post and a great story. Like so many Fletchr Family stories, it will grow over the years in its telling....
BUT....I will put up with the stories to avoid doing what she seemed to want you to do.
There are people who are emotionally equipped to crawl into damp, dark, confined smelly places. I am not one of them and neither are you.
Its good to know The Sports Wife is so physcially and mentally fit. That's why you have a good wife, to take care of you.
Tim you had it covered, Sam Adams and a tape measure. The only other items you may have needed were duct tape and a hammer. At least the thing was already dead and did not have an angry sister waiting for you to come under the house. I think I would have just moved rather than crawling under the house.
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