And there
was I thinking that I would go to sleep early on New Year’s Eve. I hadn’t
considered the wildlife.
First, a
fly. A fly. A. Freakin’. Fly! It was too high up on the wall to swat, so I spent
quite some time trying to lure it out of the bedroom by leaving on lights in
other parts of the house. When that failed, I gave up. Well, you know what they
say — try once, then give it away as a bad job.
And then
the possums. Up and down the damned ladder (which is bolted to the back wall)
and all over the roof. (If you’ve never heard a possum walk across a tin roof,
it sounds exactly like a person. Only much heavier.) Now, I can normally sleep
through the racket made my perambulating possums, but last night they sounded as
if they were nose-diving into it. Quite frankly, when I checked the roof this
morning, I expected to find a parachutist spread-eagled on it. (I didn’t, in
case you were wondering.)
If they do
the same tonight, there will be words. Words!
