This is the story of a raccoon, rash, and reclamation. Two nights ago, we heard scurrying and squeaking and deduced a raccoon had made our attic its winter vacation home. We decided to venture up and set a trap. So, we filled the humane cage with obstacles and marshmallows--according the the experts, these adorable, rabies-laden creatures love a challenge and spongy, sugar snacks.
When I climbed the rickety ladder and emerged into the dark and drafty space, I discovered the entire room was blanketed in ivy. It looked like a C.S. Lewis novel come to life. I wanted to run to the center, throw myself in the plush greenery, and roll around until a unicorn galloped up and carried me into a magical kingdom where I would reign eternal as Queen. Then, I realized it wasn't ivy at all, but poison oak. I started itching immediately. I backed down the ladder and called Frank who then called Horse. Horse is Frank's "neck-down-man," which means he hires him for jobs that require no activity from the tonsils up. Horse's tale is one of pride, a pistol, and prison, but that's a whole different blog.
Long story short, I decided we might as well clean out the attic while we were at it. Here is a list of the mysterious items I found lurking amidst the toxicodendron diversilobum:
Three vaccuum cleaners--we have all hard wood floors.
A set of electric crackling logs--we don't have a wood fireplace.
A box of tarnished silver--I must have deemed it valuable enough to keep, but not enough to polish.
An entire box of casserole dishes--I only make three casseroles. Follow this link to my fave.
Three boxes of files with labels such as: Bank Statements 2002 and Hot Fall Looks 2005.
Some piece of furniture still in the original packing.
Several items that Frank snuck in and hid including a UK corn hole set, drums, and steer horns.
And, the beloved chocolate fountain that I last saw five years ago after a Christmas party. Today, I have reclaimed the ability to supply the masses with flowing chocolate goodness. It is a grand Friday, indeed. Huzzah!
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.