I promise...there will be stitchy stuff on this here blog one of these days, but in the meantime:
Last night Stewey and I hit the hay at about 1am. (What can I say? I was enthralled with Piers Morgan's chat with Colin Firth, and Lord knows I can love me some Colin Firth just before bedtime.)
That didn't sound quite right.
Let's try again, shall we?
I have long admired Colin Firth and his work, so when I had the opportunity to view an interview that he gave recently on the Piers Morgan show, I watched with rapt attention. Then I went to bed.
Anywhoose....not more than an hour after I had wished Stewey good puppy dreams, a PACK (and I mean PACK) of coyotes started howling and barking and growling right outside my bedroom window.
You know the expression "my blood ran cold"? Well, for the first time in my life I had that experience, and had it not been for the fact that there was a whole wall and a window and a pair of Target clearance rack drapes in between me and the PACK of coyotes, I'm pretty sure I would have had to discard my mattress today. I. Was. Terrified.
Given my last post, I would imagine that all of your comments will be "What did Stewey, the fierce and beastly hunter do?".
Let me save you the typing.
Stewey, the fierce and beastly hunter didn't move an inch and continued snoring away under the blankets as though absolutely nothing was happening. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that had I, in fact, had the accident that would have caused me to have to discard my mattress, he wouldn't have noticed and would probably have gone right on sleeping through the dismantling of the big girl sleigh bed right there in the middle of the bedroom its very self.
This morning when I opened the living room drapes, I noticed all kinds of crazy hell out there in the snow that had previously covered the back yard and patio with nary a mark. Paw prints, fur, what I can only presume to be the blood of some poor unsuspecting chicken that was sacrificed in some sort of satanic ritual right out there in my very own back freakin yard, which, by the way, just happens to be right out there in an adjacent position to my very own back freakin bedroom.
I hate nature.
****I realize that y'all might think that I would want something to be "done" to these coyotes or that I am not sympathetic to their plight. So let's get a few things straight about that....firstly, I would NEVER want to hurt any living creature (except, possibly, for the idiot woman on the cell phone in the smack gd middle of the aisle at the Targets the other night), and secondly, I know that these poor creatures have to live somewhere new and exciting because we're all idiots and are not taking care of our planet, blah blah blah....BUT I LIVE IN INDY-FREAKIN-ANNA for cryin' out loud and NOT the Austrailian Freakin Outback or the American Freakin Wild West! I could have been the wife on Green Acres! I don't like things that crawl, hop, slither, bark, gallop, run, howl, mate, and/or live outside of the confines of a nicely appointed condo that comes fully equipped with Crate and Barrel dishes, 300 thread count sheets and a nine pound Jack Russell terrier who watches Charlie Rose while wearing a silk smoking jacket.