I didn’t think we had raccoons living in our house. But the last few days have led me to believe that perhaps we do. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have anything against raccoons per se, but I just don’t think I’m comfortable with them living in my house.
I have to go off on a tangent for a second here. Wordpress is flagging that I’m spelling the word “raccoons” incorrectly. (Tangent off a tangent: It’s now flagging “WordPress” as incorrectly spelled. Now that’s just stupid). So I asked my husband how to spell it (because he’s smarter than I). He essentially told me to go f myself and go look it up. Actually he said “I think you can figure that out yourself.” But he’s wrong. That’s why I’m asking HIM. And he started laughing because I get the feeling he doesn’t know why I would need to write the word raccoon anyway. He didn’t help me. And he laughed at me. And then he asked me if it had one c or two. I should have told him to look it up. But I didn’t. I answered his question. And what he really doesn’t understand is that the reason we have raccoons is because of him. Back to the post.
So here’s Exhibit A: Why is there shredded kleenex all over the couch and floor? Raccoons.
Exhibit C: Who chews sticks of butter? EFFING RACCOONS. That’s who. Yes those are teeth marks.