Something Wicked This Way Comes

I had raccoons in my house last night.

Let me go ahead and repeat that for ya.

I had RACCOONS in my HOUSE last night.

THREE TIMES.

Who here is smarter than a raccoon?

Misti, put your hand down. 

I’m sitting here, thinking now how to barricade the broken cat door that leads into the garage. Trying to blockade the door that leads to the kitchen did keep them out…THEM. There were TWO of those little masked bandits…and into the garage before they skedaddled after their third visit.

I was in the best sleep last night. Like real sleep, no ambien, no crazy dreams just the deepest most blissful sleep ever. And I could feel myself being pulled up and out of it by this smacking, unruly noise in the kitchen. Feeling around on the bed, I recognized that the boy cats were sleeping on my feet. There was no way Kikimama was smacking like that. What the hell was in my kitchen? I stumbled out of bed, and made enough noise that I scared it out before I saw it fully but I caught a glimpse of the tail. I never really went back to sleep. About 30 minutes later, I hear the cat door flap again, and hear some hissing and run in the kitchen and see it head out of the garage. This time I think…block the door!

I have nothing with which to build a barricade in this house.

I found this log sign that my dad made me out of a tree he chopped down at my house when I bought it. That might work…back to bed to lay. Awake.

Sure enough I hear the attempt. I’d left the garage light on and as plain as day, two big fat bandit loud smackin assholes are looting around my garage.

Once they left via the broken cat door, I pulled my kerosene heater in front of it and tried to go back to bed. That would for SURE make it impossible for anymore break-ins.

Now the cats are pissed.

They want out. Being used to coming and going as they please, they pretty much thought my barricades were bullshit.

After a stern talking to, I went back to bed.

Only to hear after a solid five minutes of Sammy rooting around trying to get out, a huge CRASH. There goes the log sign. What a little jackal. But then he’s in the garage and can’t get out because of the heater barricade. . . no one was happy. . . and ohgawdno NO ONE was sleeping.

I finally fell into some weird slumber where I dreamed that the new Nicholas Sparks movie about this old lady pilot who changed history with her flying and being all ahead of her time was actually MeMe Lois and all of my family thought the movie was a stupid political liberal Hollywood hippy statement. I was all like, “That’s MeMe’s story!” and they were all like, “Stupid Hollywood liberals. We hate it.”

Then I woke up.

It had been a solid 45 minutes.

I am exhausted.

And I have a huge day tomorrow of research, LTYM work, school and salon work. I must be sharp.

I gotta get some better barricades. Because I bet anything those jokers are coming back tonight.