Ever notice how protagonists in books and movies rarely perform mundane tasks like peeing or mowing the grass? We authors ruthlessly cut any word, action or scene that does not move the plot forward or contribute to character growth, and, except in The Lawnmower Man, certain types of porn and fringe fiction, peeing and mowing the grass rarely serve these functions. By extension, I don’t know about you, but I also never imagine my favorite authors performing common tasks or tackling conflicts related to the everyday world.
So tonight I bring you an account of one mundane crises and encounter with a real-life villain in this author’s life.
Yesterday our two very spoiled, very INDOOR dogs decided to investigate a noise in the woods behind our house and, after ignoring much hissing and stomping from the interloper and every damn “come” command they’d ever learned (including the freaking emergency whistle) from me, ended up with faces and mouths full of skunk spray. Two and a half hours later we finally managed to neutralize the odor with a solution of one quart hydrogen peroxide, one quarter cup baking soda and one tablespoon dish soap. This after six thorough baths with dish soap alone and one desperate soaking with tomato juice failed.
Tonight our daughter, who will only shower if the dog is on guard in the bathroom with her, had to lure her normally eager Springer Spaniel into the room with hot dogs after she gave the “bath” command and the dog returned a look that said clearly, “Um, ha-ell no.”