Hello again, awesome readers of this blog.
You’ll note that I’m using a period instead of an exclamation mark in my salutation today. This is because there’s waaayyyyy too much excitement going on over here at Moxie-Dude headquarters and I’m trying to tone it down a little.
There’s an expression, “When it rains, it pours” and to demonstrate, I made this picture for you:
But just in case this picture isn’t worth a thousand words (it’s probably not), let me explain.
Houses to sell.
Teenagers to ________________________ (insert verb: Feed? Roll eyes at? Steal a hug from?).
Driveways to excavate.
Books to write.
Deadlines to meet.
MY WORLD HAS GONE MAD.
And then this:
I was sitting at my desk, writing, minding my own business, when the phone rang. So far nothing out of the ordinary, right?
Wouldn’t life be grand if we could do this in real life … insert a pause?
Or better yet, a rewind button to go back and take another fork in the road?
Or a fast-forward button to carry us through Life’s bitchy days?
Pauses would mean that we would never go anywhere. We’d stay stuck in the present.
A rewind button would take away some of the life experiences that make us who we are today. (I don’t know about you, but I LIKE me today.)
A fast-forward button would mean that we would never get to experience some of our best mistakes.
Disregard that whole part after the pause.
Back to our story …
So, I answered the phone and this is when I learned that something was living in the attic of the house I’m selling. The very same house that’s having a building inspection on Saturday!
Side note: have you ever noticed how the words “attic” and “panic” rhyme-ish?
According to my tenant – the one that lives in said house with the crazy noises in the attic – she wasn’t sure if whatever was living up there was feral children or critters.
A select list of the first words to come to my mind …
All these words were flashing through my mind in red neon lights. It was like my brain was taking a walk through China Town on a Saturday night.
So, I called a trapper and set a time to meet him at said adulterated house.
Nice man. Very knowledgeable. Knows his “pests”.
As it turns out, my tenant was right with both of her assumptions: feral children AND critters.
A mother raccoon had made a birthing center in the attic above the bedrooms and was now living there with her five babies.
Mamma raccoon wasn’t there while the trapper was investigating and he told me that he could take the babies right then and there but they would surely die without their mother.
Nope. Uh-uh. Not an option.
Okay, Mother Teresa. Onto Plan B:
Set a trap for the mother and as soon as she’s caught, get her and her babies out and relocate them TOGETHER in the woods.
Yes, much better.
Except that the mother beat us to the punchline.
After checking the trap the following morning, we saw that momma had already grabbed her babies and fled the scene, deeming her “home” unsafe to raise children raccoons. (The nerve!)
Now I just need to fix momma raccoon’s front door (a space under the soffits) before another critter decides to move in.
Surprisingly, what is a raccoon’s favorite snack?
While you think of your answer, scroll down …
Are you thinking of an answer or just scrolling?
Nope. Not peanut butter.
And now we’re all smarter for knowing this.
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