As I mentioned, sometimes our power just goes out. For fun.
The kids and I came home today, and when I pressed the button on the garage door opener, nothing happened.
I got closer, and nadda.
I assume the battery's dead in my remote, so hop out and hit the keypad. Zilch.
Yay, the power's out again.
No big deal! I had "clean out my car" on my t0-do list, so we broke into the house, let Zoe out and the kids hit the yard. I gathered some trash and headed over to the toss it in the can. The trash JUST came, so there's not much in the can, but as lift the lid to toss in some carbage (get it? car+garbage!) I notice something odd.
So I open the lid a little wider.
That's odd... We just took the trash out, and there's so much loose trash in the can...hmmm..
At this point, I open the lid, shove my head in a little more
Ew! Is that poop?! Who just THROWS poop in a garbage can?! I mean, when we pick up Zoe's poop, we toss it in here, but "just poop" would mean that someone picked up poop with their bare hands! Who does that?!
Now I have my head and shoulders peering into the garbage can.
And that's when my eyes met the beady little eyes of this fellow:
Yes. We like Chick-fil-a, but that's not the point! Oh my raccoon!!!! In the trash can! One centimeter closer and that thing's clawing my eyes out and giving me rabies!
So I did what any rational person would do.
I slammed the door and screamed, "OH MY BATHTUBS!! THERE'S A FREAKING RACCOON IN THE TRASH CAN!!!"
Which of course means that as I go to get my phone to take a picture, the kids are stacking up the recycling bins to peer in and get a peek, causing me to scream, "Get down! That thing will claw your face off!"
I'm guessing the jerk raccoon was making his weekly stop in our can. Unfortunately for him, trash was delayed a day for the holiday and he didn't get the memo. So where there should have been some trash to eat, enjoy and get a boost back out, there was one measly bag in the bottom and he couldn't get out.
Hubs, of course, was out of town, but told me to leave that jerk in the can until he got home (we have some issues with raccoons. And armadillos. And burrowing animals). But I felt bad for the stupid thing. But not bad enough to do anything besides tossing a little bit more trash in there. Not to squish him! Just to give him a little umph to get out of the can.
And the next morning, I stood on the kids' stacked green bins, peeked in and nothing there! He escaped!
And I will be forever afraid to open our outdoor garbage. As will many others in my life, including my mother.