So night before last, I stayed up really late working on some stuff, but at about 1 am, I decided to take a relaxing bath and go to bed. As I mentioned, everyone else in our family has been traveling, so it was just me, alone in our giant, old house.
Or so I thought…
We have not had a possum sighting in several weeks, so I had really begun to let my guard down. I certainly didn’t have possums on my mind as I relaxed in my nice, hot bath with a glass of wine at one o’clock in the morning. But as I was lying there, I heard this very loud scratching noise directly above me.
Our bathroom is one of the rooms in our house that has yet to be renovated in any way, shape or form. It’s in baaaaaad shape. Part of what’s so icky about the unrenovated bathroom in our house is this ugly drop ceiling made of some kind of foam tiles that someone installed at some point. And now, these ugly foam tiles are barely hanging in place where they were originally installed. They’re both heinous and falling apart.
So I look up at our ugly-ass drop ceiling, because that’s where this scratching noise is coming from, when all of a sudden, one of the tiles comes loose and a giant creature falls out of the sky and lands with a huge THUD only inches away from the bathttub.
IT WAS A GIANT POSSUM! A POSSUM ALMOST FELL INTO MY BATHWATER!!!!
This was no baby possum like all the others. No, this was a fully realized possum, larger, filthier and even more venal looking than any I’d encountered in our house previously. I think the possum was temporarily stunned by hitting the bathroom floor so hard, because it just stared at me from a few inches away, even as I screamed bloody murder at it to GET AWAY! GET THE HELL AWAY. AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!
After a few seconds, it started to run out of the bathroom, and I realized I needed to catch it before it hid somewhere else in the house. So I hopped out of the bath tub – totally nekkid and dripping wet – and took off after the possum, which ran out of the bathroom, through my bedroom, down the hall and into the dining room.
Well, that’s where the trail went cold.
The lights were off in the dining room, and before I could get them turned on, the possum was nowhere to be found. So I’m standing there in the middle of the night, still soaking wet, totally nude and screaming obscenities at the now-escaped possum in our house. I also realized that I was still clutching the glass of wine.
I spent about 30 minutes trying to find the possum, but to no avail. And Leo, our Great Pyrenees, slept through THE WHOLE DAMN THING. The possum ran right past him where he was snoozing on my bedroom floor and he never blinked. (Afterward, I chastised him mightily, and told him that if he wants to be on Team Possum, he needs to get with the program.)
That night, having accepted that there was a GIANT POSSUM roaming our house, and that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it until morning, I got a sizable butcher knife from the kitchen, and I placed it on my nightstand before I went to sleep. Then Leo and I slept with the doors to the bedroom closed and locked tight. It was like our own, personal Possum Panic Room.