The Possum's Paw

   This morning I went downstairs to let the dogs out, and noticed something sitting on the rug—just a couple of feet from the door. I stepped closer, then immediately recoiled from the pungent odor. Someone left a desiccated foot on my deck! At first I wasn't sure whose foot it was, but upon looking closer at the appearance of the toes and claws, decided it must be from a possum. (This was later confirmed when I found a patch of black, dried skin with telltale-colored hair on it. Taylor had found it first, and rolled on it. Are you shivering from sheer grossness? Good. Me too.)

   The paw reminded me of that short story "The Monkey's Paw" by W.W. Jacobs—so I made sure not to make any wishes on it. It's funny how a surprise event can trigger a distant memory. (There are plenty of useful things I can't seem to remember... but old short stories I read in middle school? No problem.)

"It's just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy."

   The moral to the story is "Be careful what you wish for, you may receive it"; in other words, our lives are ruled by fate, and there is a penalty to be paid for trying to overcome it. I'll definitely be careful about what I wish for after this not-so-subtle reminder!

Random Hallmark Moments: Grossest Plague Ever

   This fiend is the second giant cockroach I've seen in as many days at work. The one yesterday attacked Stephen, running straight at him and deftly maneuvering around his stomping feet and then running at me, prompting an uncharacteristic girly scream. (From me. Stephen had much more composure.) What can I say, I was afraid it would fly up in my face!

   Today this guy ran at me and dodged my foot, then attempted to take Ginny down, so I had to do what I had to do. Not only are these things fast, they're big enough to hoist me over their filthy, disgusting heads and haul me to their lairs, where all the other giant cockroaches will begin chanting to their god and then toss me into the crater of an active volcano as a small but sufficient offering.

   My cute, brand-new Sachelle flats may never be the same, but at least Ginny and I lived to tell the tale, without the slightest singe of lava.

Backpackers will drink anything!

   Renee sent this message and photo to me today: "Here's that creepy trough I told you about.  This is why I have faith in my Katadyn filter." Renee is still alive and well, and her children are normal (no extra limbs or anything), so I guess I'd better invest in a Katadyn!