Living the... I guess "dream" is as good a word as any. (What The H?)

What the H? is going to be my first regular guest-post series here. You already know Middle Daughter if you're a regular reader of this blog. Middle, as the most commonsensical of the Older Kids (who existed before our Backup Kids, the Twins), appears here relatively infrequently, especially now that she's on her own.

I invited her to contribute a once-weekly post about her life, with these specific instructions:

1. Get it to me by Wednesday.

She did, and here's her first post:
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So I am in my apartment and I decide that I want to go for a walk because the weather is beautiful outside and so I change and put my shoes on and grab my keys and my phone and I am out the door. I attempted to get my sister to come with my but she claimed that it was “too hot” outside. I think, Oh well, maybe I will enjoy the alone time. I could always use that time to ponder my life and where I want to be in the next five years or so, you know, real deep stuff. Anyways I am walking out the front door of my apartment building and a man is walking in.

Man: Hello.

Me: Hi.

Man: How are you?

Me: Good, how about yourself?

Man: Living the dream.

That was our deep conversation.

I continue on my merry way and the night is gorgeous. The sun is setting, it's the perfect temperature for an evening walk, and I am listening to the sounds of the night.

I am about a mile and a half from my apartment, walking past a set of four rain gutters, when I start hearing this whimper of a meow. I think to myself “Oh my god there are helpless kittens in there being eaten alive!”

(Yes my mind automatically assumes the worst about this situation.)

So I start to talk to the kittens:

Me: Hello, little kitties.

Kittens: Meow.

Me: Come out so I can see you.

Kittens: Meow.

Me: Hello, please come out.

Kittens: Meow.

This conversation goes on for about fifteen minutes before I call my mother and frantically ask her to give me the non-emergency police number or any number that can come and help these kittens out. She very helpfully gives me the number and I call:

Female officer: Non-emergency.

Me: HELLO!!!! There are kittens trapped in a rain gutter. Can you send someone to help me?

Female officer: I will send animal control to your location. Please stay there so the officer knows where to be. Have a great night.

Me: Oh thank you thank you. I will stay. You have a great night as well.

As soon as I hang up the phone I turn to look back down into the rain gutters and I see what I thought was a kitten.

It was not a kitten.

It was a RACCOON! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH…..

Prompting this conversation:

Me: Oh hello Mr. Racoon how are you doing this evening?

Racoon: (No sound. It is just staring at me with its beady eyes wondering whether I would taste better raw or shish-ka-bobbed.)

Me: I was just leaving now. You have a splendid night. Goodbye.

Racoon: (The eyes staring deeper into my soul still saying nothing.)

I immediately start to power-walk away. (I didn’t run because I didn’t want to raccoon to think that I was afraid and then decide that I would be an easy kill so I played it cool.) And I called that female officer back to tell her that it was NOT a kitten:

Female officer: Non-emergency.

Me: Um hello I just called about a kitten in a rain gutter, well its not a kitten it’s a raccoon so I am going to go home if that’s okay.

Female officer: please do I will let the animal control officer know. Thank you have a great evening.

Me: Yes, thank you, I will if I can make it home alive.

I walk home as fast as I could and I reached my apartment and see the same man from the start of my walk, outside. He is outside jump-starting his car. I walk past him and he looks up at me.

Man: Hello again.

Me: Living the dream, huh?

Man: Yep.

Me: Me too.