Epidemic

We have an epidemic playing out in our basement.

First, I thought our furnace was broken because I kept hearing a clicking sound. Every time, however, I went down there to investigate the clicking stopped. Soon I realized that the clicking was coming from an animal (a cricket? grasshopper? chirping bird?) and I was scaring whatever it was as I tromped downstairs.

Then a few nights back I went down to investigate again, but the clicking sound didn't stop and I could localize it to some boxes and my boiling water canner. I picked up the canner and something moved inside it. It was a baby one of these: Yes, a possum. Or Opossum if you're the National Geographic. I started to scream but because my husband is hard of hearing, I had to run upstairs screaming bloody murder like a wild banshee all the while holding the boiling water canner filled with a tame, possum playing....well, possum. David disposed of it. Let's just say that this baby's mother will be reunited with it on the other side of the Jordan.

This morning, much to my horror, the clicking went crazy and David and I went downstairs to the sight of two baby possums in our basement, a clear sign of epidemiologic escalation. I herded one towards David with a broom, while he caught its tail and swung it into the pot. Then the other one walked over David's foot, allowing him to scoop it up and put it with its kin.

I'm here to testify that boiling water canners sure come in handy for a variety of tasks. Without a complaint from our captives, David martyred the beasts, this time without much screaming from me.

But really. We want to be done with the possum hunts in our basement. Whenever it stops snowing we will inspect all crawl spaces to make sure they stay outside.