Sally runs inside (she'd been in the backyard playing for about one minute) and tells me, "Mom! You are not going to believe this, but there is a huge mouse in the poop trash. It's huge! It's so disgusting! Come see . . ." OK, I am filled with fear and a cold sweat breaks out all over my body. So we go out to see the poop trash - this is a small trash can that I leave on the side of our house, in the grass, to put the dog poop in. Samuel and Sally like to use the pooper scooper, and I don't like to have them drag a full pooper scooper all around the patio. Hence the trash can . . . Yes, it is disgusting. Yes, it is quite dead. No, not a mouse. A possum. A dead possum, on top of the poop, covered in ants. Is that just the sickest thing you've ever heard of? So, after I freak out inside, I calmly usher the kids into the house, turn on a cartoon, grab a trash bag, and take a deep breath. I threw the whole thing in the large trash with a heavy lid.
Afterwards, as I related this tale to my husband, he asked me if I washed my hands. Why would I need to wash my hands, I asked? I didn't even remotely come close to handling this thing. There was NO WAY I was going to try and save that trash can. It's history. It's so gone. And yes, I scrubbed my hands in hot water. Twice.
And today was trash day. So this thing will be in there for the next week. I know it's dead, and it's covered up now, but still. It's there.
I will never like possums.
6 comments:
I guess I shouldn't tell you about the possums I had as pets then...
you are such a wuss. I was at Jaymarie's the other day and Ted is killing perfectly helpless spiders that were outside in the backyard minding their own business.
Awwwww, poor thing!
Possums are proof of the fall. They are just such disconcerting creatures dead or alive.
I don't think you are a wuss to be disgusted by anything decomposing.
So there Mrs. Brave Lady Julia!
People afraid of possums unite!
possums are cute! not dead ones, but still...get a plastic bag and scoop it up. You know, people do that sort of thing for a living.
Yeah, I found a randomly dead possum in my back yard one year. After I shoo'ed Grissom and his CSI buddies away from the 'remains', I got Eric to shovel it into the garbage can. Not a pretty sight... or smell. Blechh!
I like how, even though you were grossed out, you did what had to be done. I'm chalking that up to your courage, and not to the knowledge that Stu has an even weaker stomach. (Did anyone ever tell you the coffee grounds story?)
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