A reality, and a story

First the reality.  It’s finally happened.  Somehow I have apparently gotten old. Too old to stand anywhere near the speakers at a show, too old to look at the lights as they pulsate off the stage, too old to have people in my personal space while watching a band play, and way too old to stay out until 4am. Seriously, when did this happen?!?  I guess I know it had to happen sometime. I’m sure someone will tell me it’s all a part of ‘growing up’ and that ‘it’s about time’.  All the same, part of me will mourn the loss of the life of the party status I once possessed.  But when I was a rockstar, I was really a rockstar. All good things must come to an end.

And now for the story. So 1/2 and I had noticed a growing odor in the garage.  We had both just attributed this to something especially foul in the garbage can. Yet as 1/2 left for work yesterday morning, and I later in the day, it seemed as though the stench was getting seriously out of control.  I actually had an inner dialog that went something like “Geez. Did something die in here? It totally smells like something died in here”. Fast forward to my return home after my meeting.  I get out of my car and as I walk to the door, I see something out of the corner of my eye. A possum (I think).  Lying motionless next to the entertainment center (one of two that sit in the garage that we have no use or space for) is a possum. My heart rate immediately quickens…and by a lot.  I then stare at it thinking “they’re nocturnal, aren’t they? Is it just sleeping? Oh my God, is this thing going to wake up and charge me?”  As if possums charge, but still.  The eyes were open and I was thoroughly freaked out. It became obvious (finally) that it was dead, so I made my way to the house to plot my next move.  I immediately call 1/2 and explain the situation.  To paraphrase her response, “that thing better be gone when I get home. I don’t care if you have to call someone, but I want that thing gone”.  She sounds menacing, but she’s really not.  But, since it was her birthday, I figured I better figure something out.  I sent a couple of text messages to my ‘country’ friends, but received no response.  Carcass removal fell to me.  And with only one small incident of a jumping up and down, running in place freak out, I eventually met my objective.  I then sent another text to my non-responsive country friends which read, “I may have thrown up a little in my mouth, but it’s done”. Suddenly they’re responsive and I get a “LOL!!!”.  Nice.

PS- The band we saw last night (from too close to the stage) is called Cowboy Mouth. I had never heard of them before, but 1/2 had seen them in Charleston. Old or not, I thought they were good. Kinda like a hybrid of Green Day and Barenaked Ladies. I especially like their song, “Kelly Ripa”. If you don’t know them, you should check them out.