• 1., 2., 3. Pillows
• 4. Bathmat
• 5. Gold purse
• 6. White shirt
• 7. Great Value Fiber Brownies (incredibly gross)
• 8., 9., 10. green, purple,, and red shirt.
• 11. Book: House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros
• 12. Book. The Road by Cormac McCarthy
• 13. Another red shirt
• 14. Dog tie-down (never opened).
• 15. Pet Head Cat Detangling spray (as if my cats would stand to be sprayed)
• 16. Book: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
• 17. Book: Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
• 18. A glove that had been a dog toy
• 19. Plastic measuring cup
• 20. Book: Shop Girl by Steve Martin
• 21. Book: How to Be a Woman by Caitlyn Moran
• 22. Book: Dutch Oven Cookbook
• 23. White plastic scraper something-or-other
• 24.,25., 26., 27. Four margarita glasses
• 28. Eyeliner (and last of the pink-eye items!)

Two interesting things this week. First, I’ve officially skimmed my books, and it was both easier and more complicated than I thought. Relative easy to pick them out. Which ones do I not want to read again? It didn’t matter if I enjoyed them (like Hurston and Martin) or not (like Moran or a cookbook for a Dutch Oven that I don’t even own), but rather, do I want to read them again?

There’s a hesitance with Hurston’s book. When I chose it (and put it back and picked it back up again), when I put it in the box (and pulled it out and put it back) and, even now, while I’m writing about it.

I actually just paused writing–right now–armed with the idea that if I found another book within 30 seconds, I’d switch them out.  So…I went to the bookshelf, only to find no books that I could decide to get rid of in 30 seconds. So I came back to the keyboard, intent on keeping it in the “give away” stack. But as I sat down to say I won against the urge to keep a book, I remembered that I had discovered a whole bag’s worth of stuff when I cleaned out a drawer this morning. So I switched it out for an old eyeliner from God-knows-when.

So. I’m keeping it, at least for now. I’m not sure if I’ve lost or won, but I’ll start reading it next and maybe find out why I’ve felt such a resistance to getting rid of it.

The second thing is that I’ve had a bath mat laid across an old chiminea for months. It’s been wet, dry, wet, and dry again, but I’ve never moved it. Until this week.

Under it, all piled on top of each other and all askew, was a legion of stink bugs. They were of differing sizes, so I’m guessing they’ve been breeding under it, and I have a mess of all ages. I wish I had stopped my infernal squealing in time to get a picture.

Now, if you’ve never seen a stink bug, you’re about to:

If you’ve never seen one up close and personal, that’s something to be grateful for. There’s a reason they’re called stink bugs. The odor they release is so dire, and permeates clothes so well that it can take a few washings to get it out.

Really, they should be called stank bugs. Farting is apparently their super power. If I had any photoshop skills at all (and photoshop, for that matter), I’d make one a costume that had SBD (for the ever elusive Silent But Deadly) in a Superman-esque pattern.

They really are that bad.

And my dog apparently loves them.

As they fell from the chiminea, the dog, ever alert for possible threats, sniffed them and began dragging her face and side of her body through them. It was like watching someone fry fish: she’d get one side really good and stinky  only to flip and do the other.

At least she’s balanced in her stink.

Luckily, only a few had fallen; my stank-loving dog only smelled pretty bad, as opposed to very, very bad.

I had rubbed her down, sprayed her with Febreeze (in hindsight, perhaps not the best idea) because I couldn’t manage to wash her.

Febreeze only hides so much. In case you ever wondered.

I gave her a dog biscuit and settled her in her favorite spot to spend the night — right outside the bedroom door in a corner of the hallway, and I flung myself into bed, utterly exhausted.

Sometime during the night, she nosed the door open and hopped up in the bed. And decided, very courteously, to wake me up with kisses to let me know she needed to go outside. It was between 3 and 4 this morning.

And yes, she still stank.

So there’s that.

142 things out.

Times, they are a-changin’.

(Image source: https://njaes.rutgers.edu/stinkbug/identify.asp )