The Impacted Turd and the Raccoon that Blew our Transformer and Almost Gave Me Diabetes

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What started out as fairly typical Monday, quickly dissolved into the shitshow I’m experiencing as I write this. Thanks, in no small part, to my husband’s ingenious invention.

Granted, he designed it to power solar sump pumps. But since we don’t need those in South Florida, Miami McGyver here rigged up a whole charging station so I could juice up both our phones, my laptop AND our WiFi! He’s good like that.

(As an aside, if you have a property that doesn’t have power or you need a remote power source for any other reason – like your transformer blew – check his stuff out here!)

Back to where this all started. I had picked up my kids at school, given them a snack and had started the very painful homework process when we heard an explosion and immediately lost power. At about the same time, I hear my son’s blood curdling screams.

His poop is stuck.

After trying unsuccessfully to massage his belly and several other measures to avoid having to do the thing I didn’t want to do, it became clear that I would have no other recourse than to go in and scoop it out.

After that harrowing (and incredibly revolting) experience, I decided we all needed to go outside and get some fresh air when a neighbor drove by asking about the power outage. She explained that she heard the explosion and that she had witnessed an animal fall from the power line.

Because inquiring minds want to know, I headed to the back yard to investigate and see if I could locate the fried cat I told the kids we were having for dinner. But while looking for the charred remains of whatever blew our power out, I heard a noise and discovered a raccoon. A very much alive one. So I tried to take its picture while my dachshund tried to do what she was born to do, hunt her some varmint.

As I was being very careful not to piss off our little friend, my daughter started screaming bloody murder and I turned to find her tear stained cheeks and horror stricken eyes.

The following dialogue ensued:

Me: “What is the problem???”

Her: “Mommy, No!! I don’t want the raccoon to get Lola or jump on your face and give you diabetes!!”

Me: “You mean, Rabies?”

We later discovered, when a whole crew from the power company was dispatched for the clean up on aisle 9, that the live raccoon we had seen was actually mourning the loss of his mate — who was limply hanging, suspended from the wires that were all tangled up in our tree. Turns out it wasn’t such a great place for their nest.

I’m happy to report, however, that unlike the poor ‘coon, save for some poisonous fumes from my non-soy candles, my kids and I made it relatively unscathed.

 

And to my knowledge and great relief, I did not contract diabetes from the aforementioned raccoon.

How was your Monday? Leave a comment below!

 

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