Yesterday first thing I brought a slug in with the morning paper.
That wasn’t so bad.
On Saturday when we were getting our bikes out to go to the market, Mark noticed that the screen was ripped on the vent window in the attic. I kind of knew about it; I’d seen mice up there, and suspected bats.
Monday I called a roofer about repairing it, and the nice lady I talked to on the phone thought I should just see if I could take the window out and get it re-screened. I meant to go look right away at 5:15 when I got home, but of course forgot until after dinner, about 7:30, almost 8:00, getting dark. Only to discover big poo, not just mouse-size droppings, smelled like a toilet, and everything chewed and thrown all around. Sad little wooden figure from one of my mom’s Christmas candle-go-rounds on the stairs. Tiny glass chile peppers from a string of Christmas lights tossed everywhere. And at least two or three raccoons. I saw one of them under the eves. Since it was evening, they came and posed in the window, and when we were pulling out of the driveway (to go to the Union to see Clueless), I saw one walking on the roof. Its silhouette was just like my sister in law Jen’s depiction of bad animals in art.
I think they’re sleeping now, and I don’t really want to go up there, so all I’ve got is the window. The animal removal company I called is not coming till tomorrow morning, though so maybe I’ll get them to pose tonight.
I can’t help but feel like this is happening to me because I have too much stuff – there were two sewing machines up there (the third, that I use most, is in my room); a couple of boxes of fabric and at least two rolls of quilt batting; 2 coffin-sized Tupperwares of Lego – oh and jeez a cardboard box of beanie babies that is no doubt now shredded into raccoon baby nest. Not to mention the Christmas ornaments and my mother’s pink filing cabinet of recipes and Mark’s tool bucket, and a few random lamps. First world problems. But I still lament the stuff.