Little Creepy Animals

Let's see. . .it's been about four days since Martin left for Kentucky, with four days to go. Thank all heaven that my mother is here with me since if she weren't I would be stark raving mad by now. . .

Last night, after our eight installment in the British miniseries that Mom and I have been devouring hand over fist, I went down to collect some sheets from the drier.

--What is that smell? I asked. The entire laundry room reeked.

--Smells like skunk, she said.

Turns out that Mom had left the door to the back yard--teeming with life and all manner of small animals--to air out the basement. And what had crawled in and made itself at home? I know not.

--You should go look around, I said.

--No way, she replied.

My feet felt crawly and jumpy and I was glad to go upstairs and pull the covers over my toes. Thankfully Mom had kept her bedroom door closed all day, but as I drifted off to sleep, I thought of all the horrible creatures that could be hiding down there in the basement workshop. Groundhog, skunk. . .

Can raccoons turn door handles? I wondered, imagining a giant raccoon sneaking into Mom's room as she slept.

Also I mulled over the black snake sighting not long ago. I was clearing out the back porch when a long serpentine form appeared from nowhere and slithered away into the brush. Who knows what's living down in our basement? Please, God, don't let me find it in the dark. Let Mom find it instead.