Miss Information is annoyed by urban wildlife
Miss Information didn't start out annoyed, in fact it was destined to be a pretty good day. It was the semi-annual book buying trip and because she was, at one time, the only fiction reader in the reference department, she is considered the branch fiction guru. In fact, all she does is show the customers how to use the electronic products and find their own damn books. Nevertheless, her colleagues are all fooled and that's the way Miss Information likes it, dammit. Book buying is the closest thing library staff has to theme parks and she wants to keep going. The store is filled with the intoxicating scent of fresh book--aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah papery-- and the books are all pristine, untouched, unread, unhighlighted, unsoggy--it's just so (sob) beautiful.Besides the bookstore is downtown and she loves downtown. She was feeling all virtuous on the subway on the way there, for once not destroying the environment with her evil car emissions. And all that yoga has improved her balance so much that she only knocked over a couple of people when the train stopped--a new record!
The book buy itself was great. The staff were friendly and helpful. The books were plentiful. There were refreshments. All in all a pretty great day.
It all started to go wrong when she left the store. For one thing it was now about a billion degrees out. (Miss Information knows...it's pretty much her fault for selfishly depleating the ozone layer with those evil car emissions she mentioned earlier. She does adore her car, though.)
Still, Miss Information loves hot weather and it isn't that difficult to step over the people with heat stroke who have collapsed on the sidewalk. So she made her way back to the subway...but she had no change--also not a problem--she just stopped for a piping hot cup of coffee, got change and made her way into the subway station....where the air conditioning wasn't working.
No problem. She sipped her coffee...hmmmm maybe should have gotten an iced one instead...got all hot and sweaty. Then the train came. No AC there either. She got home before she completely liquified, showered changed into her only funky summer top and headed into work for the evening shift...which was uneventful. Except that the underwire in her favourite bra had worked its way out and poked her all night. She hates when that happens.
On balance it was a pretty good day right up to the moment she pulled into her garage. She lives in a neighbourhood near a park and the little critters do love to hang around her garage. Earlier in the spring she'd noticed some skunks around but they seemed to have moved down the street leaving Miss Information with just the chipmunks, squirrels, and raccoons to cope with.
She didn't mind any of them. Not even the raccoons. At least not until she began to close her garage door and one of the foul beasts landed right on top of her. She squealed like a little girl--second time this week (see previous entry for that story).
It was a very large raccoon. Really, really, really furry. With big claws.
Her one funky summer top? Destroyed. Her hand? Scratched. Her chest? Bruised. Her plans for tomorrow? Visit walk-in clinic to see about a rabies shot. The raccoon? Fine. His fall was broken by Miss Information and he's now back sleeping peacefully in her garage.
Stupid urban wildlife.
2 Comments:
Just a note to say I really appreciate a story that leaves one without those lingering, nagging questions that your recent postings have induced. I'm still stuck on 'Madonna under L', cocaine desserts, pictures of federal and municipal laws (why no interest in pictures of state laws?), and of course computers labelled 42 and therefore whether you appreciate Douglas Adams having been here. It was quite a relief (although I confess I wondered how the story would read from the raccoon's point of view).
Oh my lord! I feel your pain.
I live in an old house. One time I opened my attic trap door, and a rat trap fell out and hit me on the head. The trap had two rats on it, one dead and one alive (and squealing).
I rarely go back into the attic now. I leave that to the exterminator guy.
I hope you recover soon!
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