I Don't Do Dead Fish

This is the-well used fish cleaning station at the Dixie Belle Motel.  This time of year, the fishing is great and every day the buckets have been full of stinking fish guts.  Now the job of disposing of said stinking fish guts falls to the DH, because the whole fish cleaning station was his idea and as stated above, I don't do dead fish.

As the DH is currently in Pennsylvania, to his credit, he did arrange for a friend to stop by and take care of the dreaded empty the stinking fish guts task.  I saw said friend this morning in the parking lot and he assured me that the fish cleaning station was AOK.  I thanked him profusely for his help and off he goes.

It's not my habit to do so, but I decided to go back there and give the whole stinking thing a girly clorox cleaning.  I changed to my worst work clothes and put my feet into a pair of wellies, so I wouldn't get any dead fish juice on my person, or if I did I would be wearing something disposable.

To my dismay, I found two large stinking buckets full of large stinking fish guts.  The buckets were so heavy, I couldn't even pick them up.  Why did I thank the "helpful" friend?  Apparently, he just took a look around and did nothing.  Anyway,  I decided to spray everything down with clorox and just leave the stinking buckets for the DH when he returns. Ooh boy, I'm thinking.  They'll be pretty darn ripe by then, but I really didn't have much choice.

Just as I finshed hosing down & bleaching up, 4 fishermen who checked out this morning returned with yet another load of dead fish to clean.  While they were back there making more buckets of stinking guts, I had to come up with a plan. 

My first decision was whether to play my "woe is me" martyr role or my "helpless female" role.  To help me decide, I went back to where the "boys" (my age and better) were making their newest stinking mess and kindly asked themm in my sweetest Scarlett O"Hara manner, to only fill the buckets half way so they'd be light enough for me to pick up and tote to the creek for disposal, all the while having no intention of doing so.  I was just throwing out my line to see what I'd reel in.  I pushed the wheelbarrow over to them  and left it there.

As I was making beds in the room the boys had occupied, the one gentleman in the crowd came in to ask if I wanted him to dump the buckets and where to dump them.  "Oh Bill, if you would do that for me, I would be eternally grateful," I cooed.

He came back to tell me he not only dumped the stinking fish guts, but washed out the buckets and the wheelbarrow.  "Oh, Bill you are my hero," I gushed.  He didn't exactally say "Aw shucks, ma'am," but almost as good.  He told me I treated them well, they had a good time, they made a mess in their room and I didn't complain...much.