Sometimes One Must Cry Over Spilt Milk

There are a few areas around here where it seems as if the sky is always doing something fantastically interesting. This is one of them. It's right near the Costco. I just happened to look up while I was at a stop light and that is what was happening.

I did go into town today. This involved one of my routine, thus safe trips, aka either grocery shopping, thrift shopping, going to lunch with family members, or getting a pedicure. With family members. 
Today was pedicure and lunch day. Lily had the day off and Jessie is working tonight and the time seemed right. I actually stopped at Lily's house, which is between Lloyd and most of the places we go in Tallahassee, and she drove us to the nail place. Actually we first went to a tire place to pick up Jessie as she was getting new tires. 
The reason I didn't drive Lily is because my car stunk to high heaven. I said "stunk" rather than "stinks" as I am being optimistic as to the super deep cleaning I gave it after I got home this afternoon. 
It's a long story involving a gallon of milk in one of my sturdy canvas bags that had been laid on its side and therefore leaked all the way home a few days ago. I thought the bag had contained it all so I washed that and cleaned off the milk jug and put it in the refrigerator because the jug itself had not leaked, just the lid. 
First lesson learned- do not put gallon jugs of milk on their sides in your car to transport. 
The next day I took my trash to the dump. I put the bags in my trunk, as I always do, and thought to myself, "What in the world did I put in one of those bags?" because the car stunk to high heaven. I didn't even think about the milk. 
However.
The next day when I got in the car and it still smelled like something rotten and vile, I knew there was more to the story. 
So I got to work, taking out everything in the trunk, smelling each item as I went, and then scrubbed the floor of the trunk (or hatchback area, whatever you call that), with Windex because The Car Guy, after about a billion years in the business swears that is the very best thing to remove odors from a car. There was a little latch place that of course I'd never noticed where milk had collected and it was all curdled and gross and it was not easy to get into all its little nooks and crannies but I tried. 
I told Glen about all of this and he said, "Well, honey, the milk no doubt dripped into the space below that floor through the latch and you have to clean that too." 
Sigh.
That was yesterday and I had not gotten around to cleaning the underspace (there's an underspace?) so my car still reeked. REEKED! 
Which is why Lily drove us to get the pedicures and to lunch. 
Of course I had a bizarre experience in the nail place with the guy who did my toes because I attract strange people who act in bizarre ways and I'm not the only one who thinks this. Lily and Jessie agree that this is true. I didn't even tell y'all about the woman in TJ Maxx who almost forced me to try on her seven-year old Birkenstocks to see how comfortable they were. And I did try them on, believe it or not.
Anyway, this guy was part sadist and part comedian wanna-be. I will not go into details but I will tell you that at one point Jessie told him to stop doing what he was doing in no uncertain terms and he did. 
Okay. What he was doing was tickling the arch of my foot because he discovered it was very ticklish to me. I thought I was giving him the cease and desist order just by my cries of discomfort but no, obviously, I wasn't, so Jessie stepped in and used her firm and serious voice. How did I raise such strong children? I do not know but I am in awe of them.

Then we went to lunch where Lauren met us. She had to be at work at four this morning to do inventory but was off work by lunch time. Hurray! We had a good time and as always, Lily made me laugh so hard I almost choked. No. I will not repeat what she said that made me laugh like that. 
Here's what we looked like after we ate.

Look at us girls! 

When I got home, I pulled everything back out of the trunk of my car and lo and behold, here's what's under that false bottom.

I mean, I sort of knew that there was something down there in that mysterious and unexplored place to do with the tools needed to deal with a flat tire but I sort of just figured it was one of those toy tires and a jack. And a lug-nut wrench. 
Well, I'd actually forgotten about the jack and the lug-nut wrench. 
How privileged am I? 
It would appear that there is an entire mechanic's shop of things necessary to temporarily inflate a flat tire and for all I know, there's a whole other tire beneath all of that stuff. 
But I got out the Windex and the vinegar and Fabuloso and rags and paper towels and Q-Tips and bottle brushes and everything I could think of that I'd need to get into all those spaces. Some of them you can't see and yes, they too had curdled milk in the teeny-tiny cracks and holes of their structures.
So. I have done the best I can for now and I am hoping that tomorrow when I open my car, it will smell of Windex, Fabuloso, and vinegar and the odor of eau de sour milk will have disappeared. I have washed all of the bags. I have hosed down the umbrella and chair that were stored in there. And that would be a beach umbrella, not a regular it's-raining-umbrella. They are outside in the open air right now. I have the false floor of the trunk propped open and let us keep our fingers crossed. I've been driving around with the back windows open which has been fine but as the temperatures are about to drop dramatically tomorrow, that's not really going to be much of an option. 

Mr. Moon is in a deer stand over on Tom's property in hopes of catching a deer. I have a tiny feeling he may actually get one this evening although I have no idea why. If he does, though, he's going to be very late for supper. When you get a deer, you have to do all sorts of stuff to get it ready to put on ice before it can be turned into venison. Stuff that I do not want to contemplate because I am a big old hypocrite. 
Meanwhile, I believe I will go cook some chicken thighs. 
Again- the hypocrisy overwhelms me. And yet, I somehow manage to deal with it. 

If you have managed to get all the way to this point in tonight's post, I salute you and, at the same time, have no idea why. 
But thank you. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. Mr. Moon is home and no, he did not catch a deer tonight. As always, my feelings are mixed but he doesn't seem to be too upset. Or, upset at all. I often think that just being quiet in the woods at dusk is what he really enjoys. 
He does, however, really like a nice venison tenderloin, wrapped in bacon. 
As do I.