Then, I got home from my run, glanced over at the side of my house and this was there:
|That's TRASH that was inside the can last night. Damnit.|
We have a dog now (God love us) and so the trash can really smells like $hit. So, a few weeks ago (after nagging Boy Child for about a week) I took it upon myself to clean the trash can. (And I think you know how I feel about this - it's right there with cleaning the vacuum. These tasks just make me go, "What the WHAT?")
So, of course, the fu*cking raccoons came back. They were waiting for me to do this. They smelled a clean trash can with food trash in it and they went nuts.
Oh, and just in case you were wondering - my brushes with wildlife this past week have included this guy
|Yeah. That's a coral snake that Girl 1 found hanging out. He's dead now.|
and this gal.
|That's a peahen (female peacock...duh). (I always have called them female peacocks because I am a dork.)|
Am I Dr. Dolittle? Because it kinda feels like it.