This is certainly not my first time living outside of a city proper, but it dawned on me recently that when there’s only one other house within a half-mile radius of where you live, you’re in a different kind of country. Deep country. The kind of place where the local wildlife gets together on alternate Tuesdays to formulate detailed plans about how to screw with the new girl.
Here’s a small sampling of some Facebook updates I’ve posted in the last month regarding things like prehistoric flying reptiles:
Small varmits trying to snuggle up with me under the covers:
Here’s a little narration of the situation by yours truly.
What you should be able to determine from this video is a.) my mouth and brain are only connected by a thin thread of hysteria at that hour in the morning resulting in a lot of laughter and only partially coherent sentences, and b.) clearly I didn’t think this through. Even so, in the early morning battle of me vs flying mammal…
Mostly because he was exhausted from doing 4,562 laps around the ceiling, I’m sure. But still, he’s been safely released back out into the wild.
And here’s where I start to think the critters are escalating in their attempts to drive me to a permanent state of half-crazed sleep deprivation. Because, for real?
To hell with it. I’m opening all the doors and windows and just going to become one with the wildlife, because clearly I’m fighting a losing battle in keeping them out of the house.
But first, a nap.