Date: 2005-02-03
To: View Entry
Miles today: 0.0

7:30pm2.3.05What a day today! Where to start? Today being one of those days at the apex of the boring-exciting oscillating scale. Well, ¢apex¢ may be a tad of an exaggeration, but humor me. Umm, well, first, I took out the trash. Not that this is exciting, but that is how my day began. And, as trash-day only comes around once a week, there¢s a small element (on the scale of once-a-week- mindlessly-completing- a-chore level) of excitement there. Especially, when you hear the garbage truck coming down the street, see the flashing lights strobe across your ceiling as you try to convince yourself to get out of bed, and then you realize -- your trash isn¢t on the street corner, your trash is sitting just outside the back door, just where you left it, b/c you were such a lazy bum last night, not wanting to brave the cold, and oh yeah, sure, you¢ll get up early in the morning to put it out. Hmpf. Well, hearing the truck, that got me out of bed fast, sprinting to the door, slapping on shoes a la Bridget Jones, running outside on the snowy, icy path, shoelaces flying, in my pajama shorts, garbage bag aloft. Success! The garbage guys were still 2 doors down. So, not exactly ¢excitement¢, but it got the blood pumpin¢. Then, first thing that happens at work, Steve has me continue the demo(lition) on the kitchen we¢re remodeling, tearing out plaster and drywall. So, I¢m smashing w/ a sledgehammer and grabbing w/ a crowbar. Hunks of plaster hurdle through the air, dust flies; in general, it¢s a mess. (Steve commented today, as I stood wielding the crowbar, attacking a wall, plaster dust painting my face the way blush and mascara do some women¢s, a huge grin on my face, he looks around at the chunks of drywall strewn at my feet, hapless victims of my ruthless attacks, and says ¢You just love makin¢ a mess, don¢t you?¢ His matching grin belies his criticism.) But anyway, as I¢m mercilessly eviscerating this wall, thwacking away unconcernedly at it, I reach behind a piece of drywall, grab hold, and yank. It comes off in a satisfyingly large (and startlingly heavy) chunk. I glance up at the wall, and see a furry little brown huddled mass. I nearly dropped (but thankfully didn¢t) the drywall on my foot. ¢Oh great, some decomposing mouse corpse¢ was my thought. And then I see movement. A little heart going pitter, pitter, pitter. (And it wasn't mine.) I look closer -- it¢s not a mouse at all. It¢s a bat. And, from the quantity of fuzzy bedding material, a long-term resident of that wall. I troubled Sam for a small container; I wasn¢t sure if bats would bite, but I really didn¢t care to find out. Carabelle came home just in time to witness the extraction. My initial thought was to just knock the little bugger into the container. But, this lil¢ fella didn¢t want to go. Those little claws or talons or whatever you call ¢em, they¢re resilient little hooks. I sort of prodded him a couple times. No response. A few, slightly firmer, pushes. He starts squeaking and then he bites the rim of the container. (Guess that answered the question of biting.) So, I steel my nerves, pull my gloves on a little tighter, grab him lightly around the midsection, and tug lightly¢¦ tug a little harder¢¦ a little more¢¦ I had to literally pry that little bugger off the wall. I just hope he¢s okay. I don¢t know if bats hibernate in the winter, but even if they don¢t, being evicted like that, it¢s gotta be a shock to the system. I left him outside, under their porch, but right beside a heating vent, so hopefully he¢ll pull through. It was vastly preferred to the other option -- Steve asked Spanky (the plumber, and no, the name is not an invention of mine) if he wanted it (the bat). Spanky¢s response -- Well, I don¢t have my python anymore, or I¢d take it. To Steve¢s slightly confused look, Spanky elaborated -- ¢What? A bat¢s just a rat w/ wings. A squirrel¢s just a rat w/ a bushy tail.¢ I wonder what the python thinks? Anyway, this little bat wasn¢t destined to become snake fodder. And, I can now add ¢bat extractor¢ to my resume.The rest of work, not really ¢exciting¢ caliber. More smashing, tearing, dust, mess. And then, a whole lot of sweeping and vacuuming and dumpster runs. But, as I leave work (or try to), I put my key in the ignition and turn. Chug, chug, EER. Hmmm¢¦ Chug, chug, EER. Sigh. Back to Steve¢s house. Thankfully, he knew the trick -- hit the gas before turning the key. Something about carburetors and chokes. Whatever. It worked. Hope it¢s not indicative of future issues. (Though, as I won¢t be driving it for 6 months, it won¢t be my issue anymore.) It made it home safely at least. I get home to several letters, one from Zhiling. She sent, along w/ her best wishes on my hike, a genuine Guatemalan quetzel bird. Not the actual bird (that¢d be quite the trick, slipping an avian specimen past the USPS); it¢s a handmade beaded keychain. For good luck. And it¢s already hanging on my pack.Speaking of packs and gear -- so my boots from last year? Well, they¢ve been on their last legs for quite some time now. No. They¢ve been beyond their last legs for quite some time now, steadily falling apart, piece-meal. Frankly, the only thing holding them together at this point is the gore-tex lining. The fabric is totally ripped to shreds, the rubber toe bumpers flap in the breeze and have the annoying tendency to catch on inconvenient things. The padding around the ankles is torn and ripped, this weird foam material oozing out like some primordial substance. And today, the last crutch gave out -- the lace snapped. They finally reached the point where their sheer comfort can¢t outweigh the inconvenience of cramming my feet into them. So, what do I do w/ them? Toss ¢em out? Give them a proper burial? (¢With as much dignity as he could muster, the Old Man gathered up the sad remains of his shattered Major Award. Later that night, alone, in the backyard, he buried it, next to the garage. Now, I could never be sure, but I thought that I heard the sound of Taps being played, gently.¢ -- The Christmas Story, Jean Shepherd) What did I do w/ my boots? I replaced the broken lace.But, to make up for the near-miss of the trash, and the near-squishing of the bat, and the near-failure of the Jeep, and the near-loss of my precious boots, it snowed today. It was a lazy snow, the flakes in absolutely no hurry, meandering sedately down from the sky. Big, fat, juicy snowflakes. Just strolling through the air.