A post in which I face life in the great suburban outback

It was an interesting day at work today. A guy at work contacted me. I had seen him before, and knew he was gay, and wondered about him, but the opportunity just hadn't arisen to explore much more. He works in a different department in the other building at work, so it wasn't like we see that much of each other. We did find out, kind of by accident last week, that we both have a passion for Indian food. Anyway, he sends me an email today, just kind of out of the blue, and asks if I'd like to get to know each other better. I was touched. I think he's a bit more shy than I am, so that may have been hard for him. Plus, any personal approach at work is now fraught with peril, of course. Additionally, he works in sales. I think a sales person and a credit person co-existing in harmony has to be one of the seven signs of the apocalypse. But I said OK anyway. I listened, but didn't hear the sound of the breaking of a great seal. No horsemen. We're cool so far.

Of course, we're just talking about friendship right now, but who knows? He seems to be literate, and I can already tell he's a bit of a foodie too. Of course, he tells me he is deathly allergic to cats (as it seems 75% of everyone I meet is these days). And see, there I go, planning already to be a Sadie. Lordamercy. Sometimes I annoy myself. I was just thinking this week that I kind of like not having to share the bed with anyone but the cats. But that's kind of pathetic too. But see I just automatically went there. It isn't all my fault though. My friend Terry gave me a Tarot reading one time, and everything she told me came true - except for one thing. She told me I would find love in the workplace. So I've been half-waiting ever since. But geez, I have dated people I worked with twice. And both times it was pretty much a disaster. I have sworn a Scarlett O'Hara Vow never to do it again. But that was sixteen years ago. And I am free. Free as a bird! But wither, wither shall I fly? (Extra points if you recognize that quote.)

Food for thought.

I couldn't decide what to eat again tonight, so I just came home and had tomato soup. Justin would be proud. I got in touch with Russ tonight. He has been a bit miffed at me because he called me last Friday night and I already had plans. I sent him an email this week, but hadn't heard back. Anyway, we worked it out, and we're going to dinner tomorrow night.

I have a hole in the eave of my house. There is a place where the siding has come off, and I keep meaning to have it fixed, but just haven't. When the guys came to the house to do my trees, they told me that I needed to get it covered or I would have squirrels in my attic (don't go there). Well this week I started hearing little feety-prints up there. "Crap, I thought, I've got squirrels." The odd thing was that I was hearing stuff late at night, and squirrels are generally asleep then. Also, I can almost beat on the part they would be in by slapping the ceiling of my laundry room, but they didn't come out of the hole (I can see it from my laundry room window). Squirrels are usually pretty skittish, being towards the bottom of the food chain and all.

So I'm laying in bed tonight trying to get into The Scarlet Pimpernel (with limited success). I'm trying to watch Leslie Howard and see a) a swashbuckling hero (which frankly was pushing it); and b) not Ashely Wilkes (which was even harder). But I keep hearing this rustling and popping sound, like some critter chewing on a rafter or something. Eventually, this just pisses me off. I go up in the attic with a flashlight, but can't see anything. So I'm in the laundry room, beating the fool out of the ceiling in there, and checking the window. I see this big triangular head poke out of the hole. I'm thinking "Fuck! I don' t have squirrels, I have a possum (Opossum for you yankees)." I have seen a possum in the neighborhood before.

Well for some reason, the thought of a big ugly possum up there (see above translation, those above the Mason/Dixson line) with his naked tail caressing my rafters just grosses me out and makes me more mad. So I throw on an odd assortment of clothes and go out there with a big plant squirt bottle full of ammonia. I know possums have sensitive noses, so I'm pretty sure that will annoy him if it doesn't drive him out. (I figured he couldn't get in to the attic or he'd be in there already.) So I adjust my spray to "fine stream" and just start filling that hole with squirts of pure ammonia. At first, nothing is happening, but it is making me feel a bit better. Then, a head appears. The head of a full-grown raccoon (that's coon, for those of you from West Virginia)! I was flabbergasted. He didn't like that ammonia one bit, and tried to go under a rafter and into another section of the eave, but I was having none of it, and had plenty of ammonia. (I had just bought a quart to clean old glass with.)

I kept spraying. Eventually, he couldn't take it any more. He tried to crawl back up over the roof, but was probably having a hard time seeing at this point. He fell off the corner of the house, bounded across the dog lot, climbed over a five foot fence, and headed off at a pretty good clip. Hopefully he won't be back. I had seen him in the neighborhood before, in the storm drain that runs under the street. I'm sure the neighbors across the street provide him with a buffet of cat food every night. I have no problem with him being in the neighborhood, but if he ain't paying rent, he ain't welcome at my place. I'm just sayin.

Flush with victory, I returned to the house and called my buddy Rick (who's a handyman) to let him know I definitely have to have that roof fixed. His number is disconnected. So I called my friend Laura to find out if she could get in touch with him, but she just had JB's number. I'll call him tomorrow. I then turned on the computer, and killed things in a video game for a while to take the edge off. I then cleaned up all the mud and flotsam I had tracked in to the house during the fracas. By that time, Pimpernel was over and some war movie was on. I turned on the DVD player and went to bed.