I am a withered nub of Irish angst, wrapped in a blanket of incredulity-peppered with just a touch of what the fuck.
I don’t know about you and your kinfolk, but these energies are kicking my ass. I’m talking immediate manifestation and I have proof.
There remain a very few things that terrify me at this point-let’s face it, we’ve all been sickened by reality during the last few years.
However, I have always been terrified of the opossum. Next to snakes, they’re the stuff nightmares are made of, and then some.
Over the weekend, my husband took a pic of me with just such a rodent (superimposed, of course) at the top of my head, and sent it to my brother.
As a joke, of course.
What transpired this morning still has me rattled, I won’t pretend otherwise.
Every morning I rise before dawn and have my first cup of joe on my front porch. For years now, never so much as a hoot owl has ever disturbed my reverie.
This morning I had the displeasure of having an opossum charge me-before so much as a sip of the brew. I can only try to describe for my viewers the decibel of blood curdling that came out of this mouth. My dog flew forward in a ferocious chase, right into the street-followed by my cat Maybe.
Shaking with every fiber of my being, I sit to collect my thoughts. I am startled out of the process by the cock-a-doodle-do of not one, but numerous roosters and they appear to be standing in my front yard.
We don’t have a rooster.
Believing I had tripped the light fantastic, I run into the house and flip the front porch lights on. It appears my Amish neighbors have installed a rolling chicken coop, and placed it directly in front of our home.
I do not consent, and I will not comply with any further cocksuckery.