Death In The Afternoon

My last week sucked. There is really no other way to put it.  It sucked.  I will try to spare you most of it, but do let me say that if I hadn't had my blogger friends out there to keep me informed an enlightened it would have been worse.  Still, I spent a lot of time sitting very still with my eyes closed as the television played in the background. 

There are a lot of Criminal Minds, CSI, SVU type shows that run in the afternoon.  I find this interesting since most of those show feature brutalized or dead women.   They also feature really lovely coroners and criminologists with long flowing hair.  At some point his week I watched as one of these glamorous coroners pull the body of woman out the water and load her on a gurney.  The body had better hair than I did!  According to the story line she had been in the water 3 days -- 3 days and her hair looked better than mine, which did nothing to improve my mood.  (I know it was just a fake TV body, but still, it should not have had coiffed hair.)

Saturday there was a chicken massacre.   A rampaging raccoon killed 5 chickens and injured several other.  I got the survivors locked up and set about burying the bodies.   Several chickens remained unaccounted for.  As I approached the bodies, the first thing I did was pull my hair back.  Even after burying the chickens, who were never touched by my human hands and whose liver temp I did not check, I still felt scuzzy.

I went inside, took a shower and was half dressed when I heard a chicken scream.  I went running out of the house to save her wearing  my Roll Tide t-shirt and little else. The screaming chicken was running wildly, the raccoon was chasing her, I was chasing the raccoon, while screaming wildly.  We ran almost to the barn when the chicken a turned and headed back toward me.  When she turned, so did the raccoon.  At this point, he looked to be the size of English Springer Spaniel.  He was running right at me as stood there motionless.

All I could think about was the glamorous coroner who would find my body in the yard -- with bad hair.  Not to mention no pants and probably no face as those are the tastiest bit to predatory animals.  At the last minuet, the raccoon turned, clearly appalled by wet and stringy hair.  Or perhaps he was an Ole Miss raccoon.  Either way... do press on dear Bloggers,  one never knows whose life one might be lifting.

To quote Scarlett O'Hara, "Tomorrow's another day..."