Thursday, March 29, 2007

critters and crumbs

I was going to call this post a rebuttal to Linda's post, "Things that go bump in the night" but really there isn't anything terribly inaccurate in her post, save a few things I will correct for the record.

If you haven't read her post, I recommend you do so. It's pure comedy gold, and I come out looking like an enormous doofus, so it's all good.

[ok, you're back? great. here's what I have to say...]

* We really did hike seven miles. Why? Because Linda was in charge of the map and we MISSED A FOOTBRIDGE. Thank god we didn't tackle a long and complicated hike, else I'm sure we would have ended up in Nevada.

* To this: "But I, being the experienced outdoors person, thought, 'Bears, schmears. They can't open doors. How would they get in here to get our granola bars and cookies?'" I say...Dude! Did you not see the video they were playing over and over while we waited to check in? Bears, clearly opening things.

* To this: "Before we left for Yosemite she had her car detailed to get every last crumb out of it so as not attract them and encourage them to break the windows or anything." It's true. I did this.

* To this: "She takes the bears and warnings seriously." Well DUH...they're BEARS!

* Ok, when I saw the mouse I did not say "There's something in the plastic bag on the desk. I saw its beaty little eyes. I think it's a mouse, and you're going to have to take care of it." What I did say/do was:

- Turn the light on. Saw mouse. Thought I was crazy. Turned light off.
- Heard mouse again. Turned light on. Saw mouse again. Mouse was nonplussed.
- Stood up, walked over to Linda and poked at her. "Linda," I said.
- "Mnkndmdsnmnasmnfm," she said.
- "There is a mouse in here. Will you please take care of it," I said. Note that I SAID PLEASE.

* She did halfheartedly shove at my crap on the desk and saw no mouse, then returned to the comforts of her comforter and went immediately back to sleep.

* Did I not mention in the previous post that silence and darkness really freaks me out? Ask my mother. It always has.

* The silence was soon broken as the cheeky little mouse came back. I turned the light on, Linda finally saw it, and hilarity ensued.

* I proceeded to stare at the ceiling in the darkness for awhile, but when the sound of something heavier than a tree branch scrambled across the room, I turned the light on and stayed that way all night.

No, I have no idea what the light was supposed to do. Last I checked, animals do perfectly well in the light as they do in the dark.

* To this: "It doesn't bother me to share space with the critters, but Julie seemed much more concerned." I don't know what freaked me out. I like critters. I cultivated squirrels and ducks and all sorts of nature in my backyardish area. If I met the mouse outside or even in a tent cabin, it wouldn't have freaked me out at all. So I'm a weirdo. That's not new.

* To this: "Julie, however, was convinced it was a bear and started worrying about bears, because, you know, if a mouse could get in the cabin, a bear most certainly could too!" In my defense, Karen thought it was perfectly logical. SO THERE.

* From this point of the trip on, anytime I said something smartassed (which was often, because that's what I do), I was good enough to follow it up ON MY OWN with "I know, I know, shut the fuck up, mouse girl."