...and there I was, wondering what on earth I would do with my first weekend as a free woman.
So, I quit the job I stopped loving months ago, you may recall a decent sized bitch-ass-rant about the smile nazi, a large part of the reason why I started looking else where in the first place. The cloud must have been too busy premeditating future mishaps because BITCH MISSED OUT on this one! I got a new job making significantly more than I was, and for once, I'm happy.
My brain isn't even sure how to handle this amount of happiness. I'm still getting used to it...because it's so foreign to me...I feel like I just spotted a unicorn, or found out there really is a Santa Clause and I, in fact, did not hallucinate that time I swore I saw him as a child. (Well, I was 15, but whatever.)
Friday my summer friend called and propositioned me with a road trip upstate to drop off a couple of ferrets at a rescue. I shit you not.
Of course I went. My kid loves her kids more than she loves me so...how could I deny her this opportunity to hang out with them? She says, "Be ready because I'm getting up at 6:30." Okay...sure. She arrives at 10:30, and I am ready with munchkins and coffee.
We set the navigation and we're on our way. It's supposed to take about 2.5 hours to get to the "big yellow house" in Hudson Valley. Approximately two hours and fifteen minutes into the trip a child asks, "Can I hold one of them?" Sure, we say. Mere minutes later we hear:
HE POOPED ON ME! AHHHHHHHHHHH!
The kids scream... I scream... friend screams...the poop child cries...we fly off the road and pull over. I open the window because the stench activates my gag reflex and vomit won't help anyone at this point. We throw the blanket with poop out the window. We find wipes and try to start cleaning her up, as well as the damn ferret that has actual diarrhea on it. It was like, caked into his fur *gag* and friend is holding it by the nape of it's neck as it dangles over the open munchkin box and coffee cups.
She wipes the poop off the ferret but with any kind of pressure the thing starts swaying back and forth. I witness the poop particles falling into the munchkin box. So now, she holds the thing and I start wiping - tossing each wipe out the window - as well as the contaminated munchkins and coffee. The kids are still screaming/crying but we are now hysterical laughing and I'm also still trying my best not to vomit.
Now, a man strolls out of the store we pulled over in front of with a garbage bag. Busted. We had completely littered his little lawn with shit-ridden paraphernalia. I look at friend and she says, "I'll do it." (Damn straight she'll do it. I wasn't about to touch any of that shit.) She apologizes profusely to the man and we're on our way.
We arrive at the "Big Yellow House" that is the ferret rescue. I'm not sure what anyone else was expecting but this pretty much fit my assumptions. It was a white trash dump, complete with about 50 ferrets- that we could see anyway. The smell. The creepiness...I was thinking we should have left some evidence of our trip behind so they could locate the bodies once we were reported missing.
We made it out of there, with all of the children in tact and we found outlet stores on the way home. Thankfully, retail therapy is a cure-all.
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