Well, you undoubtedly noticed I only posted one thing yesterday. I’m afraid that was the crux of mental activity mustered during what I declared in the morning to be a lazy day. After the party Friday night (more about which I will post later), I felt as though I’d expended as much energy for the weekend as was required of me, so my Saturday was already destined to be a “do nothing” day.
For the first part of the day, I lounged around with coffee and The Kids in tow, meandering from place to place without finding interest in doing anything. We played a bit, of course, and they certainly received a good amount of attention. I watched a bit of news, did some reading, lounged around staring into empty space, and otherwise tried diligently to — you guessed it — do nothing.
As lunchtime rolled around, I called Rick and left a message asking if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. I needed to run a few errands, so the idea was to get lunch, run my errands, and get back home where I could pretend to be a rock for the remainder of the day. Rick called back a short time later and said we’d be going to lunch with some friends. He picked me up and off we went. Despite the need to play social interactionalism during the meal, it was quite enjoyable: the food was good, the company was great, and it didn’t last terribly long (a few hours). I was home again in no time. So off I went to run an errand or two, but I rapidly lost interest in that and completed one thing on my list before deciding the day was now complete — or at least to be abandoned immediately in favor of less daunting activities.
At home once again, I curled up with The Kids and a book and lost myself for a few hours. Some errant portion of ambition struck me at that time, so I sorted the laundry and prepared to tackle that chore. Sadly, once sorted, it remained unaddressed and is still piled up around home waiting for a chance to bathe. Oh well. With the heavy lifting of clothes taken care of and a new fashion-based obstacle course rendered complete, I got caught up with my favorite blogs, online news, e-mail, and other tangential activities on the internet, and then I sat down with a Negra Modelo and The Kids, turned the TV on, and generally wasted the rest of the day. Even watching television seemed to require more energy than I had, and finding absolutely nothing of interest to watch I was unable to bring myself to put a DVD in or grab a book; instead, I sat and mindlessly flipped through hundreds of millions of channels of crap until I stumbled upon Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom on Animal Planet. Finally, something worth watching.
Early in the evening, I headed to the patio but stopped short before reaching the doors. My intention was to pick up Chira’s food and water bowls for the evening, place some treats out for the raccoons, opossums, and other wildlife, and eventually get back to the couch where I could continue my potato emulation. I realized as I walked toward the patio doors in the living room that something was outside at the bowls, and whatever it was was too large and too dark to be Chira. I froze in the hopes of not frightening it, slowly lowered myself to the floor, and covered the remaining distance to the doors by crawling. It was dusk and not quite dark, so I had a perfect view of the beast: a very large raccoon. Damn it! They came early, and that meant I’d need to get another pair of bowls for Chira’s food (he generally won’t eat from them once the raccoons have had their way). I sat quietly with The Kids about me, and we all watched the little big fella as he cleaned out the bowl. What I find amazing is they won’t eat directly from the bowls if they stumble upon them; instead, they’ll sit next to them, reach in with their paws and grab some food to eat, shift position as they push the bowls around the patio, and continue this approach until all the food is gone. On the other hand, if I place a pile of food on the patio ground directly, the raccoons eat it without the extra hand-involved drama.
Anyway, we watched the raccoon finish his meal, check out the rest of the patio to ensure no hidden caches of goodies were to be found, then scale the fence and slowly climb down the outside of it. That’s when I went outside and picked up the bowls. I found the raccoon experience had plumb tuckered me out, so it was back to my potato state in front of the TV, a purely mindless activity which did appear to rejuvenate me in a way, possibly because it required zero mental or physical activity.
Much Animal Planet and Discovery Channel later, it was time to go to bed. And I was ready. I was unable to muster even enough interest to check my e-mail before going to bed, so I scurried through my evening routine, took care of Grendel‘s meds, spent a bit of time with each of The Kids, then grabbed some treats to leave on the patio and headed outside. I made a few little piles of food for the raccoons (although I’ll admit I was wondering if they hadn’t already burned that bridge for the evening by violating Chira’s dish so early), placed some food outside the fence for the opossums (assuming they would get to it before the raccoons did, especially since the masked bandits were making earlier raids than I’d expected), and then I stood in the still darkness for some minutes enjoying the quiet cool evening.
That’s when a bit of motion caught my eye: something running around behind the bushes, coming from the corner of the building and heading toward the back of the patio. Thick foliage kept me from being certain of what it was, although I suspected it was a raccoon. Still, when all you can see is a bit of fluffy tail and four feet scurrying about in the dark, one must make a tremendous leap of faith in assuming anything about the identity of the creature. I watched as the shadowy figure rounded the corner of the bushes and traveled along their outside edge until it came to a very small space between them (this is often where critters enter my patio area as the spacing between the bushes provides for a slightly larger crawl space that also gives a better view of what’s on the inside of the natural barrier). It turned easily toward me and walked through the foliage-sparse entranceway and without pausing walked directly toward me. It was indeed a raccoon, a rather large one who appeared not to care about anything except the mission he was on. He never paused as he reached the fence, and that is when I realized he couldn’t come onto the patio while I was there. They might be fun to watch from inside, but many predators understand raccoon tempers and won’t hunt them because of it, and I sure as hell wanted nothing to do with this beast if he found himself on the fenced-in patio with me. I said “hey” in a very normal tone of voice and he halted his advance, spun around, and headed out at the same speed with which he came in.
It was funny to watch, but I knew he wasn’t alone. I could hear other beasties there in the thicket around the patio. Since raccoons often travel in groups, I suspected I could hear his friends, and indeed, off to the side I could see another one watching me through the fence. He stood quietly looking at me, and I’m sure they could all smell the food I’d put out. We stared at each other for a bit before he decided he’d come back later; he disappeared around the corner of the building, but he didn’t take all of the noise with him. Something else was there. I stood motionless and quiet, then to my great surprise Chira popped around the corner of the patio and meowed to me. He had been inside the bushes while the raccoon traveled around the outside. I found myself happy to see him and even happier he’d not had to tangle with the bandits, especially considering how close they all were to having an unexpected meeting right there in front of me.
He leaped atop the fence and meowed to me again, so I stroked him gently a few times before running inside to get him a late snack. With a handful of cat food thrown into a clean bowl, I went back outside and made a small dining station right there on top of the fence, where he was still sitting. He enjoyed his little snack and thanked me for it with some purring and a few rubs against my hand, not to mention a few additional meows. After that, he was off to other adventures and the place where he sleeps.
My work was done. All this non-activity really had worn me out. I went inside, turned off the bedroom light, and climbed into bed, but even before I could get completely comfortable the raccoons were back on the patio enjoying their evening meal. Their timing was bad, of course, and I knew the opossums would have nothing to eat this evening. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow.