Seldom do I throw down over an issue with my husband. After a long time of living together, we have both figured out what we can and cannot "go to the wall" over. Then, one morning this one issue came about. A dead armadillo! A full grown dead armadillo laying in the street in front of our yard.

It was missing one leg it was attracting flies. And although I could not smell anything, I knew that it wouldn't be long before a foul smell would overtake my whole yard and somehow make it into the house.

Every little kid in the neighborhood had to come see the dead armadillo. I nicely asked my husband to please dispose of the dead armadillo, to which he replied "OK." Woudn't you think that "OK" meant "yes"?

Nothing happened with the armadillo that day, or the next day. Finally I became irritated. "Please get rid of that dead armadillo," I yelled. My ears are still ringing with what my husband's
reply. He said, "Oh, the buzzards are eating it!"

I felt my blood boil. Through gritted teeth, I snarled in a deep guttural voice, "get rid of that armadillo!" I think my head spun around, and foul-smelling green stuff spewed out of my mouth!

I don't need to say he slammed his newspaper down, stormed out of the door, and that was the last I saw or smelled of that dead armadillo. It's like I always say: make sure to pick your battles.

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