Day 12 – warm, overcast, sunny, a day to cover it all

It was raining this morning when I got up. I use “got up” rather than “woke up” as I wasn’t really awake. This was largely due to the 2.5 of lying awake in bed between 1ish and 3.3oish due to the adrenalin pumping through me. You see, I thought stupid drunk naked man was making his return, when, on getting up to go to the loo at 1ish, I heard all this clattering in the kitchen. I made Chef get up because, well, I felt better that he was confronting whoever was in our kitchen than me. There’s loads of body issues, deal with it. He went down the back room to investigate, returned shutting all the doors. By now I would have been pissing myself in fear had I not just been to the bathroom. Until Chef reached our room and proclaimed, “there’s a possum in our kitchen”.

And so there was.

Puss, the cat, has fashioned her own cat door in the flyscreen of the laundry door (this was no mean feat as it’s one of those heavy duty security doors that has mega screening that is thick and not like flywire at all) BECAUSE the arrival of the fucking dogs (otherwise known as the most impressive shit-factory known to mankind) means the REAL cat door is locked shut as the STINKY LAWN DESTROYING canines kept coming in through it. Or the gorgeous, favourite third child kept crawling out through it. But I’m blaming the dogs.

Well, the possum thought, “there’s food in them there walls” so came in to check it out. And low, he?she? found a delicious pear … until so rudely interrupted by the big scary moderately hairy naked man.

Then we had the quandary of how to get it out, but no fear, it simply scooted out the way it came.

Then we both lay awake for hours going, ‘there was a possum in our house” until sleep returned, only to be rudely cut short by the cat – trying to get in via it’s ingenious cat-flap now firmly impenetrable due to the big wooden door being shut – having a fight with the dogs, who must have sniffed out her meowing of indignation and went to say hi.

That was at about 5.1o.

So it was raining, then simply overcast, then it fined up to gloriousness, then overcast and windy, returning to rain just now. I think the top temp was around 26-27.

This morning, when we’d been up for about agagillion hours, so around 9.3o, I took the boys over to the beach. Much divine relaxation followed.

There are pics, but they’ll have to follow because it’s friggin’ 11.35 already.

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  • Bec of the Ladies Lounge

    I am so glad it wasn’t THE Scary Naked Guy!!

    did they ever catch him?

    (and, speaking of family archives, there’s a question on my blog you may be uniquely placed to answer)

  • Surfing Free

    Yikes! A possum in the kitchen could do a lot of damage. We have possums on our street as big as wallabies, I swear! I would not like them tromping around sampling fruit from my kitchen.

  • Suse

    We once had a possum in the kitchen of our first floor flat. It was a hot summer night (oh wait, that’s on Bec’s Meatloaf post, yes?) and it came in via the enormous fig tree directly outside the (open) louvre windows.

    Mr Soup did the Naked Hairy Man Wielding a Rolling Pin thing, to no avail. The creature wedged itself between the stove and the wall and looked out at us menacingly.

    Mr Soup’s brilliant suggestion was to try and shoo it out with a teatowel. Didn’t work.

    My brilliant idea was to leave a trail of apple pieces leading from the stove across the kitchen bench to the open window, then leave the huge juicy core on the window sill OUTSIDE, shut the kitchen door and retun to bed.

    In the morning, all the apple was gone. So was the possum.

    End of story.