Hiya! I know what you’re thinking – it’s been a while. You were probably all like “where is she? who am I? where am I?” and stuff. Well never fear – I’m back and ready to share more ridiculous stories with you.
Today’s topic of discussion is one I was having with one of my very best friends the other day. It’s all about indoor animals vs. outdoor animals.
I’m not really afraid of animals, as long as they’re in the proper place. For instance, snakes belong outside. Preferably in a jungle somewhere. I don’t really care as long as they’re as far away from me as possible. Why would you want a snake for a pet anyway? Euch.
So like I said, animals are fine as long as they’re in their place. What’s not cool is when one of those animals somehow wanders into your human territory and freaks you the eff out.
Rachel and I were having a bit of a laugh about it because she’s having issues with rats partying it up in her attic. People keep trying to convince her to climb up there and see what’s what – or to at least stick her hand up and feel around for the thing. We both had the same reaction: are you KIDDING me? Hell no! You think I’m going to feel around for a RAT in my HOUSE? Now, we’re both animal lovers. We don’t want the thing to come to an untimely end if it doesn’t have to. It just needs to get out of the house and never come back. Like, yesterday.
As much as the rat hoedown is bothering Rachel – and it is; she’s had to move to a different bedroom in order to get a wink of sleep – what’s even more disturbing to her is the dead bird on her patio.
Now, we all have our quirks. To some, a dead bird on the patio is an easy fix: grab a shovel and fling the poor dead creature into the woods. To those who are terrified of dead things, this poses quite the problem. Especially when it’s blocking the path to your laundry room. Last time I talked to her, poor Rachel was down to her last pair of clean undies and was too afraid to check and see if the creature in question was still there. Because if it was, let’s face it: that last pair of undies wouldn’t stay clean for much longer.
My horrific indoor animal situation came about last winter when I was minding my own business, sitting at my computer in my own human territory. All of the sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I see something strange in the living room airspace. “Huh,” I thought to myself. “I must be seeing things.” And returned my gaze to the computer screen.
Next thing I know, that movement is back. Only this time, it’s dive-bombing my head. Naturally, I start screaming.
“WHAAAAAAA!!!! MOOOOMMM!!!!! AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRHHHHGGGGGGGGHAAAAAA!!!!!” It was a bat. A bat in the kitchen, dive-bombing my head. As I proceeded act appropriately in this situation (throwing myself on the floor and screaming bloody murder), Mom just stood there, legs crossed, doubled over with hysterical laughter – at my expense.
“WHAT DOES IT WANT WITH US?!?” I screeched, in the fetal position by the cupboard. “Get it out!! Get it OUT!!”
Mom gave a few half-hearted attempts to rid the beast from our midst, but it ended up just chilling out on the curtains until it eventually disappeared. By that point though, I hardly noticed.
For some reason, Mom seemed more concerned with my reaction than the bat itself. Her solution to the problem: pouring red wine down my throat like a mama bird regurgitating into her screaming chick’s open mouth.
The moral of the story, folks, is this: some animals simply don’t belong indoors. Rats and bats, snakes and dead birds all have their place in the circle of life – just not in my kitchen.
Love From Sarah