That moment at dusk when you’re sitting at the kitchen table writing and out of the corner of your eye you see a skunk walk across your patio.
You send the following series of texts to your significant other: “THERE’S *#%ING SKUNK”, “DON’T COME UPSTAIRS RIGHT NOW!!!!!!” and “The [patio] door is open eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”.
And he comes upstairs anyways, ever so quietly, to sneak a peak.
When the skunk is finished smelling around, it turns to walk away, it’s pretty stripey tail bobbing along.
“It’s going for the compost,” he says, nodding his head.
We watch as it staunters across the yard towards the black bin.
When it gets there, he claps his hands loudly and sends it off scurrying in the bushes.
“It’s The Green Bin,” he says.
And he quietly walks away with the words “I told you so” on the tip of his tongue.