There Goes the Neighborhood

I learned an important lesson yesterday:  Nature is never far away, regardless of the fact that you live in a city.

I also learned that wildlife is suspicious of me.

Oh, and I learned that vacuum cleaners DO catch on fire, but that's something else altogether.

So, here's the story.  Last night, I decided to vacuum up a particularly dirty spot in my office/microwave station, when I suddenly noticed (after a very grueling 2 minutes of vacuuming) that there was a terrible-smelling black smoke coming from the vacuum cleaner.  I immediately checked it out by putting my face in the fray, then I unplugged it.  Apparently, I have no fear of things blowing up in my face. Perhaps I am that idiot that gets filmed on "Caught on Tape" exposes (and America's Funniest Home Videos--which isn't as funny as it used to be when I was 11).  Now, I'm not positive that the vacuum was on fire, but I do know that there was quite a bit of foul-smelling black smoke puffing out of it.  At that moment, I knew there was only one thing to do.  I had to get all WT on its ass and take it outside (Not unlike the time I made brownies in the microwave and they caught on fire while we ate hamburgers.  My dad did the only reasonable thing and tossed the flaming brownies on the front porch just moments before our neighbors dropped by for a little visit.  Oh, and I did put rotten eggs on the front porch after discovering that they were source of the nasty smell in my room (and not my dirty clothes as my mom suspected), but these are all tales for another time).

I always get annoyed by people that dump their stuff outside, and, quite honestly, I felt that I should take the vacuum out under the cover of night. Unfortunately, I wasn't willing to risk a lung problem, so I had to do it at 6pm.  Even though it was dark, my little corner was awfully busy.

But busy with what?  Well, let me tell you.  I walked out of my building, turned to walk to the corner where the trash can is, and saw a little creature about 5 feet ahead of me.  At first glance, I thought it was a dog with an odd-shaped backside.  Then, I thought, "Oh, it's someone's cat without a tail".  I took another gander and knew immediately what was now 3 feet away from me--an enormous raccoon.

I stopped dead in my tracks.  I started to continue my walk but thought better of it.  Those creatures are mean--and rabid.  A woman was standing on the corner looking up at the raccoon, and she confirmed for me that it was, in fact, a raccoon.  The three of us faced off for a few more seconds, then the raccoon turned and galomped away.  Did I mention that he was huge?

He headed up the street, and I went to deposit my vacuum in the Furniture/Appliance Relocation Program otherwise known as the trash can on the corner..  As I walked toward my garage, the raccoon was slowly walking up the street, turning around periodically to watch me.  I admittedly was a little concerned that he might be interested in hanging out in my garage, so I gave him the stink-eye.  I pulled my car out, and the raccoon was watching me from 4 houses away.  Once I closed the garage door and sat in my car, he came waltzing back down.  I chose to take him up on the invitation for the staring contest.  There we sat, dead-locked.  Eventually, he wandered away.  I went on my way to a rather boring (and ultimately useless) workout class, and when I returned, I spotted him again, watching me from a block away.  That raccoon better not be casing my house.  It's already a mess, and I don't want him coming in and messing it up more.

Nature.  sheesh.