Friday, September 14, 2012

What did you do last night?

Thoughts from my subconscious mind in the wee hours of this morning:

What the hell is that noise? Is that my cat? Is he murdering a bird? Wait. It's 3:45am and birds don't even fly around at this hour. Not even the early one looking for worms and crap. OMFG, my cat is being killed. He's in the tarp outside under my second story window. He's choking to death. He's... wait. He was sleeping on my bed when I fell asleep. Where is he now? Did he get out? Is the window open?

OMG. What is that hissing noise? It sounds like something ate a wasp and is now doing it's best to hack it back up. What the hell is that NOISE?! I can't see anything because it's too dark.

Opossums. I'LL BET IT'S AN OPOSSUM. Rawr's husband saw them out the other morning. DID I CLOSE THE SLIDING DOOR LAST NIGHT?

I can't go downstairs to look. What if they've infiltrated the house and they're lying in wait? What if I walk down the hall into the kitchen and find ten thousand opossums perched on the counters, the fridge, the TV stand, covering the couch, hanging from the ceiling fan... Wait. I don't have a ceiling fan. What if one of them is the leader and it hisses attack! and they all fly at my face?

I'll just jump out of bed to close the door to the kid's room, I can check Elle's to make sure it's shut, then barricade my own.No way am I going downstairs.

It was all very terrifying, Peeps.

The longer I lay there listening to the hissing and spitting and crashing through the tarp, the less PETA-friendly I felt. I was leaning more toward shovel-assisted homicide when all of a sudden my cat flew out of nowhere and landed on my shoulders. I now know that if ever I am attacked in the middle of the night, all I will do is freeze in terror with my mouth open in a silent scream.

Good to know.

Then I was like, DUDE. Cat. Aren't you supposed to run that shit off? We have claim jumpers out there on the patio and all you're doing is meandering over to the window, kicking back on the sill and looking down into the night with a noble stare, thinking, "Human. Something out there is making noise, You should go check that out."

Somewhere around 5am, I fell back to sleep.

This morning, I went out to the patio and gingerly lifted the tarp, half expecting a rabid animal to fly out at my face.

Nothing. No shreds, so mess.

Almost like I dreamed the entire thing.

Except I didn't, because Elle asked me this morning if Petey had been murdered. Good to know that the both of us are total wimps and wouldn't be able to defend our household. 
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