elanya

I must be really really scary. No, really.

I am unexplicably terrified of raccoons. I am more afraid, walking alone at night, of running into a raccoon than I am of getting mugged or raped or whatever. Partly, this must be because of all the 'rabid raccons are coming/are here!' stories that I have been hearing for years, but, there you have it.

There is, I am told, a giant, mean, raccoon that lives in the shed behind our place. It is forever getting into the garbage bins. Sometimes, Hazel makes me take out garbage when it is dark out, and I am careful to be extra loud and bring a flashlight. There is a motion sensor light, but it doens't activate where the garbage bins are. The last time she did this, she told me that I was scarier than any raccoon, and I asked Julie to confirm, which she did. So, really, I must be pretty *damned* scary.

We had a clever trick. We tied a string between the handles of the garbage bin, which are supposed to clamp shut, so that the Coon of Doom couldn't keep getting intp our trash. Apparently, this hasn't worked so well, because C said the CoD had knocked over the can, and cracked open the lid...so, bugger. Scary, bad, evil CoD! Hopefully, I can remember that I need to go and at least assess the situation in the morning.

Of course, it is still dark now, when I leave for work...