Day 161, self quarantine:
Saturday, August 22, 2022
Oh my god.
It’s 4:00 a.m., I couldn’t sleep, so I came downstairs.
I heard the birds chirping like crazy so I thought I would pull the drapes back and swing the doors open early and maybe catch them in the birdbath.
I just opened the back door and came face to face with a raccoon.
I’m in shock.
I never saw one in person before but I am pretty sure it was Rocky, though downtown Philadelphia is hardly the black mining hills of Dakota.
Though it could be argued Casa Slick is a room in a local saloon.
Oy, look at me sitting here writing and cracking jokes while I’m really sitting here completely freaking out.
I want to run upstairs screaming and wake Gary, but over forty years of living with someone tells me that’s a terrible idea.
Gary is not a morning person. He literally needs two hours and two cups of coffee before he can say Hello.
Also, unless I have a pic, he’s going to say it didn’t happen.
Yes, I’m blind, but I had my overnight contacts in and I know what I saw.
It was literally inches away from the door and stared right at me.
Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god.
This cannot be good.
So instead of like, having a nervous breakdown, I put on Chopped Sweets and I’m googling pics of raccoons for this post and reading humane ways to get rid of them.
While trying not to read how much they don’t like humans.
In the background, the contestants on Chopped Sweets are making blood orange ice cream.
On the sofa, I’m letting out silent blood (orange) curdling screams.
I wonder if they’ve been here all along?
Oy vey, I’m a city girl, I don’t know how to deal.
It’s funny raccoons have masks like robbers. I kind of have that same “my personal space has been invaded” vibe.
I was going to write about something completely different this morning but now I can’t remember what I had to say.
It either had to do with Trump or food, probably both.
I’m so disgusted I can’t even watch the news right now. I’m going through the five stages of grief over this country and it’s not pleasant.
Therefore, I need to think of something spectacular for dinner tonight, assuming today isn’t spent on pest control.
I’m not kidding, I really can’t deal with this.
Uh, happy Saturday?