Many of you have heard my tale of how I almost shot Daniel. It all started when I heard scary noises on the roof, and ended with me pointing a loaded gun at my husband. Afterward, he told me that the noise was probably raccoons – we live near a wooded area and they apparently enjoy trees. I don’t know; I don’t really know much about raccoons. Except that they make good hats.
Fast-forward to a couple of weeks ago, where I woke Daniel up in the middle of the night (which is hilarious to witness, by the way. I highly recommend it. He’s a flailer.) after I heard some scraping sounds on the roof. I’m no ‘coon expert but these footsteps were heavy and seemed to be in the attic space above our ceiling. Raccoons would likely be on the actual roof. The attic space is used by the complex and is padlocked shut; we can’t use it. I was convinced that a tiny little person (or a tall person who didn’t mind rolling around up there) was living in our attic, waiting for us to leave during the day so he could steal our things and eat our cookies. But when Daniel checked the attic space, the padlock was closed and from the looks of things, no one had been there in quite some time (thanks for all that maintenance, apartment complex). Curiouser and curiouser.
Keep fast-forwarding to tonight. Daniel and I were sitting on our respective couches when we both heard a scraping sound above us. I jumped up and shouted “SEE I TOLD YOU IT’S A PERSON THEY MUST BE LIVING THERE WE’RE GONNA DIE WHY DIDN’T YOU LISTEN TO ME AHHHHHHHHHH” and then literally jumped up and down for a second in anticipation of running for my life. I was wearing my zebra-striped fuzzy boots again so I was totally ready.
Daniel goes and loads the pistol, finds the flashlight, and goes out to our porch. I was instructed to stay inside and guard the cat, which I later realized was code for “Kristen is bad at being sneaky.” It’s true. I am the least sneaky person ever. My four-year-old nephew is sneakier than me. So Daniel is out on the porch, moving around like a ninja, ducking and weaving and matrix-ing and at some points moonwalking. I am inside, my face pressed to the glass, and Batman beside me with his face on the glass. He likes glass. He started licking it. I didn’t lick it but I did draw a little smiley face in the fog my breath left.
After nothing happens for a minute, Daniel says loudly, “Must be nothing, I’ll come inside.” Being the extra-helpful person I am, I flipped on the porch light, opened the door, and asked why he was coming in. If he hadn’t had a gun in his hand I’m sure he would have facepalmed – he was apparently trying to trick the unseen robber into showing himself. Oops. In my defense, Daniel knew I wasn’t sneaky when he married me – I was always very open about that.
So now he has to sneak back onto the porch, and I see him unload the gun, then load it back really loudly – this, I discovered later, was to strike fear in the robber’s heart. Then Daniel looks at me, points to his eyes, points to me, points to the left, and points up. I thought he was having some sort of attack, so I just stared at him from the other side of the glass door. He motioned again. I stared some more. He motioned so wildly I thought he might fall off the porch, and then it hit me – he wanted me to go over to the window and see if I saw someone on the roof. Ohhhhhhhh. I couldn’t see anyone from the window, so I made my own crazy gestures back – I waved my arms real wide and shook my head, like I was begging a plane to not come in for landing. He got the message and I went back to the porch where I could see better.
Finally, we were ready to give up – and then I heard the noise again. I made the airplane motion and pointed to the ceiling, and I could tell Daniel heard it, too. He looked at the roof and jumped (like he was scared, not off of the porch). I also jumped and stepped on the cat. My bad. I should join the CIA.
Daniel called me outside and told me to look at the roof. I looked at the top of the roof – nothing there. He then told me to look underneath the roof, in the rafters. And sitting there, looking ever so slightly chagrined but not really all that sorry, was a masked… raccoon. A raccoon. A raccoon who had figured out how to get into our rafters and subsequently into the attic space. A raccoon who had then invited his friends and had commenced partying over our heads for the last month.
So it turns out no tiny people are living in the attic. Which is a relief. I guess if I had to choose between a dwarf robber and Roscoe (the raccoon – I named him after my great-grandfather!), I would pick Roscoe. He’s kind of cute. In a creepy, please don’t dig through the ceiling and jump on me in the night kind of way.
But the most important lesson learned is this: Daniel is a flippin’ ninja. I dare you to rob us. No – I double-dog dare you. NO. I TRIPLE-DOG DARE YOU. But be warned, though you may not see it coming, though you may never hear the footsteps of the one responsible for your demise, though you may think your crimes will go unnoticed, heed my words: Daniel and Roscoe are watching.