Playing possum. Which you’ll want to do by the time I get to the end of this story.

Now that I "work from home," and I use air quotes because I haven't had ANY work in almost two weeks, and there's this one part of my duties at the textbook place I used to like: the coordinator would send me everyone's corrections–all the other proofreaders, the owner of the company's notes, and so on. I would make sure all the approved corrections were made on the final copy. I liked doing this because I could gloat when I caught things others didn't, and completely crap all over myself when I missed something.

I figured since I have been gone from the textbook company for awhile, that the coordinator had reassigned said task. But yesterday I emailed her and told her how I liked doing it and guess what? She said NO ONE had been assigned the task and she had been doing it her own busy overwhelmed self, and my point is because I didn't SPEAK UP, I have just cost myself about a thousand bucks in the two months since I started freelancing.

Do you like how I interrupted the VERY FIRST SENTENCE of this post to ramble on about some different topic? Seriously, am I the most annoying blog you read? Not that I am a blog. Well, I kind of am.

As I was saying before the shiny object of money I'm NOT earning distracted me, now that I "work from home," the following seems to happen almost every night.

Me: [on Facebook. Somebody get me a 12-step program for Facebook. We couldn't call it Facebook Anonymous, because hi, there's my face]

Marvin: Well, I'm going to bed.

Me: [distracted by the part where I'm taking a quiz to see what color I am, and being annoyed when it says I am orange] What? You're going to bed?

Marvin: [sigh] Yes.

Me: It's so early!

I continue to be astonished that Marvin needs to retire at 9:30 or 10:00, because he gets up at effing 5 effing a. effing m., which is ludicrous and no one but the sun itself needs to be up at that hour. Actually, even the SUN isn't up at that hour. But Marvin is AT work by 7. At least that's what he tells me. He's probably having a torrid affair with a Mennonite. Do Mennonites get up early? Maybe just Amish people do. If anyone is a Mennonite and wishes to yell at me about my ignorance of the Mennonite culture, feel free.

What if I have a huge Mennonite following and I have no idea? What if they all leave in droves today? June's blog. Offending Mennonites since 2010.

So, the point of what was supposed to be a short story since I have to be somewhere at 10:00 and it's 8:41 and I haven't showered yet, is that the other night Marvin went to bed at his usual Presbyterian time of 9:30. See what I did there? I tried to stereotype another group, just to be offensive to everyone. My next-door neighbor is a Presbyterian, and while I have no idea when she goes to bed, I do know that several of her friends from church drink 7 and 7s, and they told me it's also called "The Pres," because it is the drink of choice of Presbyterians. Which is funny, because it was also my drink of choice at weddings when I was a teen, because my mother just thought I was drinking ginger ale.

Hi, mom!

SO MARVIN GOES TO BED. Could I just get to the story? And of course Tallulah stays up with me, because that dog is obsessed with me and follows me everywhere, including the bathroom. It's like I'm a flimsy gum wrapper with the phone number of a very cute guy on it, and she is forever rechecking her coat pocket to make sure I'm still there.

Around 11:00, I decided to retire, as well. Not from my "work at home" position, because whoo! With the work lately. I mean from the day. Retire from the day. I let Talu out for her last constitutional, and I commenced cleaning my sexy night guard and getting the kabuki skin treatment on my face, which yes, I already showed you at some point, maybe try looking in November 2008. I think it was Faithful Reader Lee who became obsessed with seeing me in the kabuki night cream.

Now I have offended the kabuki theater people. I am going to say you all get up at midday. And you drink Jack and Cokes.

So I'm getting ready when I hear, "BARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" It didn't even SOUND like Tallulah. It was too high-pitched and insistent of a bark; hers is more, "You piss me off!" not "HATEYOUHATEYOUHATEYOU!" which is what THIS bark sounded like.

I opened the back door, and sure enough, it was Lu, and in what's always a good sign, she was barking into the bushes.

"Tallulah, come!" I said in my commanding voice that the trainer taught me. Yeah. She turned right back and came in.

HAH!

I got the flashlight and stepped into the freezing night in my socks. I don't mean I only had on socks, like I was in the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but I had no other footwear and I was not comfy. But have I mentioned it was 11:00, the time all Reform Jews like to go to bed?

Honestly. I will have no readers by the end of this post.

My flashlight shone on a possum, who looked horrified and also like it was thinking perhaps it would sink its rather sizable claw parts into Tallulah's neckeldy region at any moment. I wanted to just reach over and pull Tallulah by her collar, but I was scared that she'd bite me because she was so keyed up, and I also had the very rational fear that the possum would jump onto my face and wrap its prehensile around my neck.

I actually don't think possums have prehensile tails, do they? I kind of just wanted to say prehensile. But WORMY. Its WORMY tail.

I turned to go back into the house to get Talu's food, hoping if I shook the bag she'd be interested. Poor Henry was standing in the doorway, looking exactly like a Halloween kitty, his back arched, his tail enormous, and the most terrified expression on his orange face. It was like, "I know some shizzle is going down right now, and that I need to have this posture, but oh dear God, don't let it come toward me." Which is how I felt when I had to play softball in elementary school.

You'll be stunned to hear that a bunch of dried kibble rolling around was not nearly as fascinating as a live wormy-tailed possum. And have I mentioned this entire time Tallulah was reiterating, "BARKBARKBARKBARKBARK!" and that it was 11:00 and also that Marvin slept through all of this?

Finally, though, I had to go bursting into the bedroom, my hands flapping hysterically. Marvin got up, half-asleep, calmly filled a pitcher with water, went outside, poured it on the dog, and the dog ran inside.

Then he went back to bed.

Marvin. Calmly breaking up possum fights and sleeping with Mennonites since 2010.

113 thoughts on “Playing possum. Which you’ll want to do by the time I get to the end of this story.

  1. I’ve got a good possum (opossum?) story…Shortly after moving into our current house, our dog was in a corner of the bar where there was a box of his toys. We thought he was just obsessing over a toy in there, so we sort of ignored him…
    Well, it was summertime and the back door was open, leading out to our back yard. Our house used to be a restaurant, so this back door was in the area of the house that was the bar where people waited for a table.
    So, finally, we went back to where our obsessed dog was, and shifted the box a bit, and he lunged in the corner and picked up what we thought was a toy. Turns out it was a baby possum!
    We told the dog to “drop it!’ and bless his little heart, he did! The poor possum was playing dead right there on the bar floor!
    I scooped him up in a box and laid the box on its side outside our fence, and luckily, 10 minutes later, he had wandered off!
    What a shocker to see a real, live possum in our dog’s mouth! Ugh!
    Last thing, these comments deserve some sort of medal! Hilarious! Paula, H & B, you should totally have a blog! Love the Mennonite dirty talk!

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  2. Isn’t it Opossum? Am I proofing the proofer? Proofing the proofer= sounds like a rap song.
    Also, am I the only one that got the Chili Peppers reference? I’d be scared if you were only wearing a sock like Flea!

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  3. Christie, I think maybe that should be the next thing for “Make June Do It.” Figure out– and tell us IN DETAIL– how to smuggle eggs under your breasts. I might be able to fit ’em all, but I think they’d get crushed… maybe that’s how she got caught? I guess egg goop running down might be a giveaway….

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  4. Furry, your Menno Porn comment is killing me!! I grew up in a Mennonite community, and it’s not nearly like the Amish. But I guess it’s the best comparison out there.
    And I’m not offended. Because you are all too funny!

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  5. Sorry – I got stuck at imagining June standing at the back door, chili pepper style, which I imagine as having Marvin’s tube socks swinging from her hootie hoots.

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  6. I just got home from drag queen bingo, and I am not even making that up. Am dying over DCRmom calling a 77 a 7 by 7. Oh! The hilarity. You should have been a drag queen, dcr. With your funnyness. Also too, they are air quotes because I am using them even though I am not actually quoting someone. Im just sort of using them to let you know I dont really mean it. You know, like you would actual air quotes. And how much do you hate people who do the air quote gesture?

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  7. Also, try the flashlight trick. My dog is obsessed with the flashlight or any reflective thing that shines on a surface, like a pan lid reflecting on a wall, etc. Whe she is obsessed outside and I am ready for bed, the flashlight will even distract her from the skull she was barking at the other day. The skull was just on the other side of her invisible fence line, left by the neighbor’s husky (outdoor dog)who, when not chained up, loves to lie just outside Polly’s reach and chew something delectable like animal parts or a rawhide. The skull? turns out it was a deer skull, but whatever, it was creepy. And not as fascinating as the flashlight.

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  8. Holeeee crap. You people are funny with the Mennonite Porn. Which is really depicting Amish people, but whatever.

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