I'm really a Southern Girl now!

OK, so I've been meaning to write this up for you guys, but honestly, I think I was so scarred I couldn't tell anyone except one friend (you know who you are!) about what happened.

A week or so ago, it was late afternoon, nearly evening, and the winds were picking up pretty intensely. I thought for sure that the canopy in our backyard was going to fly off, leaving the stand open and empty. So I braved the start of the elements, and I ran out there trying to beat the rain -- the rain that never came, I might add -- and took that canopy down.

Now, if you know me, you know I'm not tall enough to get that thing. But I figured out how to lower it, unlatched the various spots that it was velcro-ed in place, and started to fold it up until. Ew. It stunk. Really bad. It smelled like pee. Serious pee.

Now how in the he!! did pee get on the canopy, you ask? Yeah, I asked that, too. I called my husband and told him that the stench was awful. Could it have been a cat? There were no tears in the covering, so I guessed not. A squirrel? We've never seen any around here. Our dog probably scares them off. I tried wiping it down a bit, but with the small amount of paper towel we had left in our house, I wasn't very successful. Plus I was starting to smell like pee.

Now, hubby did NOT believe me. He was telling me how it's completely impossible for pee to get on TOP of a 6' canopy. Unless our dog was working some sort of magic out there.

But ... it could have been ... now, stay with me. Remember, I'm from NEW YORK. I am from the city. NEW YORK F-IN' CITY. Brooklyn, to be precise. I knew what he was going to say before he even said it. We said it at the same exact second. It could be ... I know what you're going to say ...

A BAT.

My husband decides to tell me that it is likely bat musk. What the fu*k? Are you kidding me? What in the he!! is bat MUSK?

"Bat pee?" I ask, hopefully.
"No, more likely it's bat musk."
"Bat musk."
"Mmmn, hmmn."
"And what, by chance, is bat musk?"
"It's what the bats leave for other bats so they can find one another," he says. He is calm. Calmer than is normal for a person who just found out that bats were leaving their *scent* on our backyard canopy. Under which our daughter (and his wife, by the way) frequently play.
"I see."

[Break out laptop and start searching for bat musk. Thank you, YourDictionary.com. Definition of musk:
noun {why thank you, I had no idea!}

1. a substance with a strong, penetrating odor, obtained from a small sac (musk bag) under the skin of the abdomen in the male musk deer: used as the basis of numerous perfumes
2. a similar substance secreted by certain other animals, as the alligator or musk ox

Excellent.]

"It's OK. It's fine. It's not like they're out during the day or anything."

"Right. Wow. Wait until my parents hear this one," I say. Because honestly, I cannot think of anything else to say. I have not told my parents, because if I do my mother will never go outside at night again. Ever.

And so, this morning my husband put the canopy back out for me. I asked him if we needed to hose it down or anything and he said, "Nah, let's just let the rain get to it." Now, believe me, I am thinking that I will be hosing that thing down anyway. BD. BEFORE DARK.

So, for anyone who questions my true level of Southern Living, there you go. I have worn the perfume scent of bat musk. Man, I wish I could get to Sephora right now!

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