Meanwhile, back at the ranch...
Tuesday, July 11th, 2006 05:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
auntbijouI can hear the howls of protest from all over. "Auntie!!! Stop trying to do the laundry!!!" I swear, if I was a paranoid sort of person, I'd think the laundry room was out to get me! Of course, the idea that there might be something in the laundry room setting me off might not be so far fetched, but geez, making me run a fever??
And it's all because of a possum.
Yes, you read that right. A possum. For the last week, the Husbandly One and I have been watching, completely mystified, as at approximately 12:20 a.m., a young possum comes up on our back porch, toddles up to the rocker by our bedroom door, and proceeds to roll and rub himself/herself in possum ecstasy on the quilt that covers said rocker. I mean, he really gets into it. Just rolls, and rubs and licks and rubs, rubs his body, head, lick, lick, lick, rub, rub, rub... you know what? Possums aren't even remotely cute. I mean, they don't even venture anywhere near "it's so ugly, it's cute" territory. And watching even a young possum rolling in bliss on my quilt, mouth open to show rows of needle-sharp teeth while that tongue flops out and licks... it ain't pretty. Now, I don't have anything against possums, really. Anything that eats cockroaches is okay in my book, you know? But that doesn't mean I want one rubbin' its pheromones all over my quilt with its skanky tail and... okay, I guess we can all tell that Auntie doesn't love Mr. Possum.
So, Mr. (or Ms., but let's just go with Mr. to avoid confusion)... so Mr. Possum is rubbing himself all over my quilt, and while I'm resigned, because, after all, I have cats, and they rub themselves all over EVERYTHING, including us, and we maintain a polite fiction that they do this because they LOVE us... let's face it. The cats rub their scent all over us because they don't have thumbs and therefore, can't put collars on us. ANYWAY, I start noticing stains on my quilt. It's an old quilt, not hand-made (or it wouldn't be outside!) bought from Sears, and falling apart. Still, it's functional, covering the rocker and protecting it from the elements... and there are now possum stains on it. Eurgh is right! So, today, I took it off the rocker and threw it in the wash with about a ton of Oxiclean (okay, I only used 4 scoops, but you get the idea), and now, the quilt is clean, and yes it's back on the rocker. Why? Because if Mr. Possum decides to add new Possum-Goo to the quilt, well, I can throw it back in the wash, can't I? I can't throw the rocker in. For one thing, I'm too small and for another, we don't live in a world operated by cartoon physics.
So, of course, after starting that load, well, I had to do a load of the kids' clothes. And since I'm doing laundry ANYWAY...
Right about now, I imagine you are all feeling a tremendous load of sympathy for the Husbandly One. Believe me, being married to Auntie, he needs every ounce he can get! I'm a handful, I am!
Of course, this is not our first encounter with the animal kingdom. Having lived for ten years in the country, we've had our share of adventures with all creatures great and small. The Husbandly One shook his head and said, "We moved into town! Are we EVER going to get away from possums?"
I laughed and said, "Okay, when we lived in Houston, we had Lord High Raccoon scratching at our back door for us to let him in. And possums driving our Lab nuts. Why should this little town out in the country be any different?"
"Point taken," he said, and frowned at the ugly little creature rolling on the quilt. "Possums..." he muttered under his breath.
Hey, I'll take possums over pissed off javalina ANY day!!
And it's all because of a possum.
Yes, you read that right. A possum. For the last week, the Husbandly One and I have been watching, completely mystified, as at approximately 12:20 a.m., a young possum comes up on our back porch, toddles up to the rocker by our bedroom door, and proceeds to roll and rub himself/herself in possum ecstasy on the quilt that covers said rocker. I mean, he really gets into it. Just rolls, and rubs and licks and rubs, rubs his body, head, lick, lick, lick, rub, rub, rub... you know what? Possums aren't even remotely cute. I mean, they don't even venture anywhere near "it's so ugly, it's cute" territory. And watching even a young possum rolling in bliss on my quilt, mouth open to show rows of needle-sharp teeth while that tongue flops out and licks... it ain't pretty. Now, I don't have anything against possums, really. Anything that eats cockroaches is okay in my book, you know? But that doesn't mean I want one rubbin' its pheromones all over my quilt with its skanky tail and... okay, I guess we can all tell that Auntie doesn't love Mr. Possum.
So, Mr. (or Ms., but let's just go with Mr. to avoid confusion)... so Mr. Possum is rubbing himself all over my quilt, and while I'm resigned, because, after all, I have cats, and they rub themselves all over EVERYTHING, including us, and we maintain a polite fiction that they do this because they LOVE us... let's face it. The cats rub their scent all over us because they don't have thumbs and therefore, can't put collars on us. ANYWAY, I start noticing stains on my quilt. It's an old quilt, not hand-made (or it wouldn't be outside!) bought from Sears, and falling apart. Still, it's functional, covering the rocker and protecting it from the elements... and there are now possum stains on it. Eurgh is right! So, today, I took it off the rocker and threw it in the wash with about a ton of Oxiclean (okay, I only used 4 scoops, but you get the idea), and now, the quilt is clean, and yes it's back on the rocker. Why? Because if Mr. Possum decides to add new Possum-Goo to the quilt, well, I can throw it back in the wash, can't I? I can't throw the rocker in. For one thing, I'm too small and for another, we don't live in a world operated by cartoon physics.
So, of course, after starting that load, well, I had to do a load of the kids' clothes. And since I'm doing laundry ANYWAY...
Right about now, I imagine you are all feeling a tremendous load of sympathy for the Husbandly One. Believe me, being married to Auntie, he needs every ounce he can get! I'm a handful, I am!
Of course, this is not our first encounter with the animal kingdom. Having lived for ten years in the country, we've had our share of adventures with all creatures great and small. The Husbandly One shook his head and said, "We moved into town! Are we EVER going to get away from possums?"
I laughed and said, "Okay, when we lived in Houston, we had Lord High Raccoon scratching at our back door for us to let him in. And possums driving our Lab nuts. Why should this little town out in the country be any different?"
"Point taken," he said, and frowned at the ugly little creature rolling on the quilt. "Possums..." he muttered under his breath.
Hey, I'll take possums over pissed off javalina ANY day!!
