For a while now the system we’ve been using for processing radiographs at work has been out of commission. So I’ve had my eye open for a new system. I finally found a used one I liked for sale, right here in the state of Colorado. All I needed to do was drive over the mountain to pick it up.
I’d timed it perfectly to do this. My mother-in-law was in town, so I could leave the kids home with her, and I could take my wife with me to keep me company on the drive for a quick weekend getaway. Talk about a genius plan, I get away from my mother-in-law, get to pick up the piece of equipment I need, and get bonus points with my wife for taking her on a romantic getaway on Valentine’s weekend. A win, win, win situation.
Of course the weather man was predicting nasty weather in the mountains, so I’d tried to sneak out of town a little earlier than I had originally planned, in an attempt to beat the weather. It would have worked too, if not for the fact that I am a Veterinarian that doesn’t know how to turn off his phone.
We weren’t 15 minutes from home when I got the call that one of my farmers had a cow that needed a C-section. So I had him load her up and head into the clinic. Sure it was a small detour, and would put me over the mountain later. But I had tried leaving earlier, so we had a little time.
When the cow got off the trailer at the clinic, I could smell her almost immediately. It was apparent that the calf inside her was already dead, and had been for sometime. So I took appropriate precautions to keep clean. I took off my shirt, before putting on my coveralls to keep it clean, and I changed out of my clean dress boots, into my rubber over boots that could be hosed off nicely.
I was impressed that despite the smell of the rotten calf, my wife had sat and watched the whole procedure. (I think she was admiring the surgeon, and the sheer artistry with which he worked in extracting this calf in order to save the mother’s life).
With the surgery finished it was time to clean up, and head over the mountain. I took off the coveralls, completed a quick sponge bath in the sink, washing my chest and arms. Put my shirt back on. Then noticed that a small area of my pants was stained and bloody from the procedure. No problem I think to myself, I have extra pants in my bag that I’d planned on wearing home the next day. But it won’t hurt to wear them on the drive out, and back again. This is when I discover that in my haste to make it over the mountain ahead of the weather I had left my bag at home. I have no change of clothing. My Aunts recently made the difficult decision to place my Grandmother in a memory care facility, I wonder if they have room for me too? Maybe Grandma and I could be roommates?
With being delayed by the C-section already, I elect not to backtrack home to get the bag. We’re already going to be late enough getting in as it is. Plus I’ll be seeing a Veterinarian in the morning to pick up the new processor, surely he can handle a little blood on my pants.
I hit the gas station at the corner to fill up before heading over the mountain, and head inside for a Big Gulp, and an air freshener to help cover up the scent coming from my pants.
We’re barely across town, and it becomes apparent that the air freshener isn’t sufficient. So I pull into the first department store we see, and run inside for a new pair of pants.
I change in the parking lot, throwing the old ones in the back where we can’t smell them. Problem solved.
At least the problem was solved until we start going up the mountain, and the weather keeps getting worse. The more the snow came down, and the slicker the roads got. The whiter my knuckles got gripping the steering wheel, and the more I started to sweat. Something in the sweating, and the increase in my body temperature merged with the remnants of rotten calf smell still clinging to my skin to reignite the scent.
Soon I’ve pulled the plastic completely off the air freshener in an attempt to drown out the smell. When the pine forest in the truck fails to drown out the scent of rotten calf, I take the air freshener and begin rubbing it all over my body. This also fails to remedy the situation. The only option left was to open the windows. So now my wife and I are driving over the continental divide in a blizzard with the windows rolled down, and our heads hanging out like a couple of dogs enjoying the wind blowing in our faces, and even at this it was hard to escape the scent of pine forest mingled with dead calf that was emanating from my pants.
Finally at the hotel on the other side of the mountain. We barrel out of the cab, relieved to be outside. After the last several hours of smelling me, I’m worried that I’d probably ruined the weekend for my wife.
Yet as soon as we are in the hotel room, she orders me to take off my pants and get in the shower. Isn’t that what every guy wants to hear his wife say, on a romantic weekend getaway? What more could a guy ask for?