Meet the neighbors before raccoons attack (released July 26, 2013)
By Kris Kolk
Would your neighbor come to your aid in an emergency? Helping
one another sounds good in theory, but one recent occasion prompted me to
reconsider this basic directive.
When I am unable to sleep, I obsess over thoughts which
rarely cross my mind during the day. From wondering if I remembered to coil the
hose to speculating whether week-old chicken casserole has spoiled, distress
comes easily at two o’clock in the morning.
One sleepless night when the rest of the family was away, I
pondered what would happen if raccoons attacked me in my bed. I practically
convinced myself that raccoons had already settled downstairs with some Perry Mason reruns and dicey chicken
casserole.
I decided this would be a good
opportunity to redirect my heebie-jeebies into a preparedness exercise. This felt
productive. It also took the sting out of the fact I was hiding under the
covers from imaginary animals.
Raccoons know instinctively that
the television should not be used as a babysitter, so I figured they would
eventually come looking for me. I would feel persistent tugs on my blanket
until finally my eyes would open to find a nursery of adorable bandits piled in
my bed.
“I’m bored,” one would say. “My tummy hurts, and there’s
nothing to eat in this house,” another would contribute. The thought of this
scene gave me goose bumps, but I wasn’t only worried about the raccoons. Since
survival would depend on my neighbor’s willingness to get involved, I was more
concerned with his impression of me.
You see, if something isn’t fit to wear in public, I wear it
to bed. My neon green stirrup pants, circa 1983, often pair with a ratty
t-shirt from my husband’s pre-marital days. The pants offer a roomy fit since
the elastic in the waistband went brittle. Across the chest of the t-shirt is
printed an outdated message of “available.”
For crimped hair, I sleep with ten miniature braids around
my head. When I really get going on the beauty routine, I apply lotion and put
tube socks on my hands to contain the moisture overnight.
I hoped my neighbor appreciated frugality in nightwear and wouldn’t
get nauseated by the dark side of vanity. My life could one day depend on his
ability to trust me despite appearances. I needed to create a plan, and I was
too nervous to sleep, anyway.
Have you ever seen raccoons in the wild? They waddle. I
probably do, too, so my escape strategy hinged on out-toddling the fastest of
the gang through my garage door to the yard. I imagined the sequence of events
would unfold as follows:
After hearing a woman yell “The raccoons are bored with Perry Mason!” my neighbor would look out
his kitchen window. From sleepy eyes, he would spy the neighbor lady trotting
towards his house, tripping over a garden hose then getting up again.
My pants would surrender to the added weight of caked mud
while tube sock mittens would sabotage every attempt to pull my pants up. I
would arrive at my neighbor’s glass patio doors where he would be standing on
the other side. His lips would mouth “available” while reading my nightshirt. Through
sweat, mud, and ten tiny braids, my eyes would plead into his. He would
naturally question my intentions.
My neighbor would assess the situation then his mythology
training would kick in. To avoid being turned to stone, he would attempt to
look away from who appeared to be Medusa.
At this point, there is a fork in my fantasy road. Perhaps
my neighbor would provide refuge in such a situation or maybe the whole thing
would just confirm his suspicions that the neighbor lady really is nuts. I fell
asleep before visualizing the outcome.
The next morning, I found our television blaring and the
refrigerator door open. I noticed a muddy trail from my yard leading to a soccer-ball-sized
rock resting against my neighbor’s back door.
Many tips can be gleaned from that restless night, such as:
wear decent nightclothes, discard old chicken casserole, and put the hose away
after each use. More importantly, though, get to know the neighbors so they are
willing to help when bizarre stuff happens.
You never know when raccoons will come for YOU.
Kris Kolk has been a writer and
neighborliness promoter for more than a decade. You can also visit her at www.neighborsabouttown.blogspot.com. Email
her at kris@lslneighbors.com.
