It was a dark and misty night -- raining, in fact, one of those Winter evenings when it seems dark even under streetlights. The rain was slanting down, silver lines tangling in the wake of cross traffic. It was at the corner of 30th and College, under a red light; I was in the left lane headed North. Across from me, in the Southbound left-turn lane, squatted a massive pickup truck.
The light went green and I started forward -- and hit the brake immediately! The truck was turning left. Pity there's no turn arrow. He stopped too, just shy of mashing me to a pulp, and I skedaddled.
What is it about rain that addles some drivers?
When I arrived home, I parked in the (detached) garage. It's rigged for Winter, which means the internal shutters (heavy plywood with slide bolts) are in place on the windows and you cannot see into the back yard. As I approached the door, I could hear something talking outside. Funny, high voices. Or was it talking? It wasn't a cat sound, but it sure wasn't English. Children? No.... I wasn't going to stand there wondering forever.
I yanked open the door...and startled a pair of raccoons, swaying 'way out in the branches of a tree in my side yard and holding a noisy discussion. They looked at me, I looked back, and without even thinking, I spoke to them in the same way I talk to Tam's cat and mine, "What're you two up to? You get down from there!"
They goggled at me, glanced at one another, and scurried down from the tree just as quick as a wink. That tree's on the far side of the fence and they must have lit out for far places when they hit the ground; I haven't seen them since.
House-hunting? Possibly. Just as well they moved on; a pair of pro-level dumpster-divers living in the tree that overlooks our trash cans wouldn't be a good idea.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago