Thursday, November 12, 2015

On foxes, veg, and passing out early

YOUGUYS. You know what's awesome? Getting woken up in the middle of the night by a fox tearing into your neighbor's trash and dragging it all over the sidewalk. I swear he wasn't even eating it. Just dragging it. Cans, bottles, just being scraped up and down the sidewalk, back and forth, like an old time criminal rolling a tin cup across the bars of a cell. It wasn't until I stuck my head out the window that he looked up, suddenly alert, his focus on his nocturnal percussion session broken. He looks at me, somewhat put out, I'd like to say, as though he was about to reach the peak of his work and I disrupted it. My hand goes in the air - not at all unlike a conductor, which may have excited him for a moment - before I flapped it with a 'shoo!' Clearly disappointed in me, he ran off, his evening's work left behind like a Pollack made of plastic bags.

Blasted foxes.

I did my monthly volunteering today, for a local non-profit veg box scheme. I help pack up totes full of muddy organic veg for a couple hours and in exchange get any leftovers. It's terrific, especially this time of year - Britain's produce just goes bonkers in the fall and winter. It's mother effing gourd season and I'm reaping ALL THE BENEFITS.

Now if you'll excuse me, my belly is full of steak and celeriac and now I must go pretend to read in bed for half an hour before I pass out, satiated and warm and full of all the good things.

Big hugs and lots of love,

1 comment:

  1. How dare you interrupt his nightly rendition of "What does the fox say?" :)