Oooooooeeee!!! How I love the end of Daylight Savings…idiot farmers. We get back an hour in the Fall and I love it. I take it back, farmers are not idiots. I have farmer ancestors. They’re good folk. I digress. It felt good to lie in bed and know I could sleep in longer. I could have laid there all day but I had to git up and make myself my week’s worth of meals. Yep, it’s come to this.
At first it’s not so bad. I make what I like. But after the second day, things get a little…I don’t know…predictable? Boring even. I try to make things exciting with sauces or variations or side salads. By Thursday I’m pretty much done for and cannot imagine ever eating this thing I’ve been eating like ever again. This week it’s chicken mole. I suppose it could be worse and I could be bitching about eating ramen and ingesting all that sodium. I even wrote a poem for class about ramen:
Im tired and cranky and Im sitting and eating my lonely
a mouse squeeeeeaks
Im alone no longer
This happened. I was confused because right when the mouse squeaked I moved in my chair so I thought it was me. And then I heard it again. So unappetizing!
It wasn’t as bad as the time my brother and I heard the rats in the movie theater. I think we were watching Lost in Translation. Before the movie started we heard them start their rat chatter and, for whatever reason, I am always in disbelief. Like that just cannot be what I think it is. There’s no way! But yes, rats exist and we apparently go to the same places. Well, you hear a rat…that’s one thing. Once the movie started we saw those jerks run back and forth behind the dang screen. They seemed larger than need be—a total visual effect I think.
Before summer started I woke up one night to a horrifying series of shrieks. It was ungodly. And puzzling. I leapt out of bed and ran to the window and tried to see something. My iPhone flashlight isn’t worth a damn. After about an hour of this screech, I went outside and looked up into the pine tree and saw three raccoons mating. Oh very nice. These bright animals mate in the trees. As such, the male raccoon has something of a barbed penis and this barb does not release the female until—I guess until he’s had his own release. We tried to hose the suckers down but they just climbed higher. We turned toward benign projectiles—it was getting desperate after all. They gave up and we did too. Ickiness abounds. I’m sure their sweet little babies are around terrorizing cats and eating garbage. Nature is just so neat.