Do you know that places exist where you have one Blockbuster video to service the entire city of 42,000 people? Do you know that they only have one copy of Donnie Darko and you already rented that one and the end was all screwed up so you don't get to see it? Do you? Do you also understand that there is no Gap here? You do? Okay. Because let me tell you, I hated the Gap. Until I found out that they make jeans that fit me properly. Then I signed over my soul and bought some and loved them and even found myself saying that those commercials weren't so bad and Willie Nelson? He ain't selling out! He just really likes the denim!
Do you know that it is possible to live next to an open field? More importantly, do you know what it's like to live next to an open field? No? Let me tell you.
First of all, there are mice. And they get into your basement suite somehow. Oh yes they do! They eat your sunflower seeds and they make nests behind the headboard of your bed with the sunflower seed shells! They make little baby mice and they smell unpleasant when killed with poison.
And we can't forget the deer. Faithful readers will recall that once, not that long ago, I hit a deer with my car while on the highway. You will also recall that I live next to an open field. Where deer tend to be prolific. They wander across the road and into my front yard and eat the bark off the trees. They frequently acquaint themselves with the front grilles of 85 Buicks.
I also live about a mile away from a graveyard. In this graveyard, there lives a family of rabbits. I should say they're actually hares. They're giant. And they're not shy. Oh no. You might think "Awwww! Bunnies are fwuffy wuvie iddy biddy widdle bitsy bookums! Aren't um! Aren't um!" No. Um aren't. What um are, are big, giant, freak rabbits who prefer the company of gravestones to nice, normal grass and trees and prairie! And they follow you! I mean, how's a girl supposed to take a nice, relaxing walk through the graveyard when there are bunnies following her and occasionally peeping their twitchy ears over the headstones?
And it doesn't end at my door. Oh no, because that would be city mouse, and we are most definitely country mouse. Yesterday, I was doing some laundry and noticed some fluff on the floor. I initially thought that Booker hadn't emptied the lint trap like I'd asked. And I was going to give him a stern talking to because durnit, his mother doesn't live here! But I got a closer look and it turned out to be a lot of little, grey feathers. Feathers? WTF? But we don't have feather pillows or down comforters. I'm allergic and -- Oh shi-
So I pulled the dryer away from the wall and the dryer vent came away from the dryer and there was a hunk of feathers protuding from it. And that hunk of feathers was attached to the wing of a swallow. After I jumped up and down shivering for a few minutes, I called Booker in to look at it too.
"Is this a bird?"
"Dude, that is totally a bird!"
"Eeeewww!"
"It's totally gross!"
"Eeeeewww!"
"I concur! Eeeeewww!"
"Should we get it out?"
"We could poke it with a stick."
"You poke it with a stick!"
"Why me?"
"Because I removed all the hair from the bathtub drain!"
"So?"
"Wookies lived here before us!"
Booker tried to tell me that it's not the bird's fault. That we live right next to a giant prairie, there's bound to be wildlife encounters.
No! No! See, that's why we build houses! Because while I enjoy the great outdoors, I sometimes like it when I can come indoors from outdoors and there are my indoor things! Like TV and noodles and warm tea and the Osbournes. Oh, wait. That was wildlife. But you get the picture. So mice, deer, rabbits, birds. Am I leaving anything out?
Oh yes! Spiders! They love the moist, lower regions of the apartment buildings in which we live. Since we live in the bottom apartment in a four-plex, they tend to find their way to us, rather than our upstairs neighbors (who, incidentally, should stop playing PM Dawn at top volume).
I hate being a part of this adult world. When you're a kid, you don't have to deal with the fact that somebody ran over spot, so you have to go get the shovel and pry it off the road. Somebody handles that. If Wingy McSharpbeak flies down your dryer vent, you yell "Moooooooommmm! There's a bird or something in here! Come get it!" and she does! You just stand over her shoulder, watching with a sick fascination going "Gross! That is so gross! I can't believe you're doing that! Eeeeewww!"
But as Booker's an even bigger girl than I am, he ended up in that role and I was the one scraping bird innards out of the dryer vent. At least it didn't hit the fan.
So now, things are getting back to normal. Everything will be fine as soon as the creatures of the world realize that me casa is certainly not sou casa and I am merely a city mouse masquerading as a country mouse.
I am reading: The Exorcist countered with the very fluffy and funny Shopaholic. I might have to put the Exorcist in the freezer yet. Oh, and the latest issue of Popular Science.
I am eating: Soon, I will be eating macarroni and cheese and a Money's vegetarian patty. Mmmm.... soy.
I am drinking: Vanilla Coke. Sweet, sweet nectar of the Gods.
I am listening to: My copy of Once More With Feeling. Still. I am convinced that if there were ever a stage version of OMWF, I could totally play the Anya role. No, really! I've been practicing in the car on the way to work and I...Okay. Quit laughing. I totally could. Besides, we both fear bunnies.
I am watching: The Osbournes. Man, that is some funny shit. Thank you CTV.
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