The House | Mrs. Swish

>Matt and I decided that we would have a relaxing night at home. I’m trying to get laundry done, so I can pack for my trip. Matt wanted to grade some papers for the class he’s assisting with. I had just settled on the floor to fold laundry and watch Jeopardy! when I smelled fart. I turned and looked at him and said something rude about how stinky he was, and he immediately denied the fart was his. A few minutes later, the smell got worse. “Seriously babe, if you farted, just ‘fess up!” He still denied it, and in fact, he decided to investigate the odor.
It didn’t take him long to find the source. “Oh Shit!” he said from the bathroom. Quite literally…

We live in a basement apartment. It’s nice – really. I love it most of the time. BUT because we are in a basement, we have a funky sewage system. There’s a pump in our laundry room (which is just off the bathroom – convenient!) that I like to call the “Poopy-Pusher”. It lifts our sewage up and out, usually efficiently. Not yesterday.

Apparently something is backed up in the Poopy-Pusher, so rather than pushing it up and out, it just gurgled it all over our laundry room floor and into our tub.

I am completely disgusted.

We called our landlords post haste, and informed him of the situation. He came over, took a look at it and said he would call his buddy (a plumber) today. All I can say is that it better be fixed when I get home from work!

Silver lining? Matt got to use his new shop vac. I’m so proud…

>I know Kentucky is just a border away from Indiana, but it feels like a completely different country!

Apparently in Kentucky you have to apply for a license to hunt elk. I didn’t even know there were elk in Kentucky, but whatever. So, out of 40 some thousand applicants, 10 (not 10,000 – ten) were chosen to be elk hunters this fall. Well, zip-a-dee-doo-dah, our landlord was one of them.

Matt came home from work Saturday afternoon with a crazy look on his face. “Do you know what’s going on outside?” I had no clue. Then he proceeded to tell me that there was, at that very moment, a skinned, hoofless elk hanging from a tree in our front yard. What a trophy! I was immediately grossed out and mortified. “Maybe no one will drive by…” I thought. Much to my dismay, we got a call 15 minutes later from our good friends.

“Word on the street is that you have a cow hanging in your front yard!”
“That is not true,” I replied. “It’s an elk.”

They were laughing so hard they had to hang up.

WHAT THE HECK? Kentucky is so crazy…

I’m not a vegetarian or anything, but for crying out loud, do we have to hang meat in the front yard? How gross? Now I keep thinking I’m going to have an dead elk at my door or hooves laying in the yard. Ugh…it’s just too much.