Hey, life? Are you kidding me?

All I wanted was to drink a cup of coffee

Let me set the scene for you: I moved to the town I teach in this year - Jones, Oklahoma population 1900. Obviously, a rural town. But I don't live in the country or a farm. In fact I live right off Main Street.

Well, I look out the kitchen window this morning at my backyard. And there I see it. A dead possum, with Betty (the dog, not my mom - they share a name) doing a happy dance around it. I might have said a cuss word - it's a blur. I open the door and Betty comes running in the house toward me thinking she's going to jump up and lick my face - WRONG! Apparently, the teacher stare works on animals too; she sulks off to her bed, otherwise known as the couch.

Here's the thing - I've already had to do this once this summer. But it was a baby possum. I mean I still cried that I had to do it and let the world know life wasn't fair and Audra Ralls was not supposed to be the one to have to dispose of dead animals, but there isn't much choice when your son isn't home.

So, I prepare slowly to face this disaster that has befallen my backyard. I put on work gloves, which if you know me at all, is surprising that I even own a pair. I'm sure I got them as a gag gift at some family Christmas. Grab for a trashbag, and this is when the anger overwhelms me. It's my last trash bag. You might think this is a small thing, BUT earlier this summer I had a trash bag incident and I came up with the idea that if they would make the last five trashbags a different color, we would be warned that we were almost out, thus doing away with the unwelcome surprise. My only Genius moment in life. But nooooo, after I wrote Hefty (yes, I really did it - it's summer what else have I got to do), they wrote back that they can't take unsolicited ideas. So solicit it; I don't see the problem. I wasn't asking for money for the idea, I just wanted colored trash bags.

Anyway, I digress. i get the last bag. Last time I put bleach in the bag - i'm not sure why, I just did. Well, I'm out of Bleach because I had to shock the pool with it. The closest I could come was toilet bowl cleaner.

I go into the garage to get my shovel (I call it my shovel, but it was left in the garage when i bought the house, and my snow shovel - Another thing I don't even know why I own. We don't get snow, if anything we get ice. Truthfully, I think I bought it once thinking it was a real shovel. I tell you, I'm not the outdoorsy, fix-it, tool toting type.

I begin to walk to the backyard when the thought occurs to me. What if this possum is playing possum? I would say this is when I started to cry, but that would be a lie. I started crying long before this point. I peek over towards the roadkill and am sort of relieved to see flies buzzing around it.

I've got to think this through. Any misstep could result in heart failure or months of therapy. I open the gate so I won't have to worry about that. It's trash day (thank you, God for this), so I take the trash to the road, and open one of the lids. I know throwing animal carcasses in the trash is probably against some law, but at least in prison I don't have to remove overgrown rats.

It's time to face the possum. . . .dum dum dum. And my cell phone rings. It's Reese, my son.

Hi, Mom.

Boo, I can't talk right now I'm taking care of something.

It can wait. I'm having the best time with Dad and Barb (step-mom). We just got to Mount Rushmore.

That's great. Reese, I'll call you back in a couple of minutes. (God willing)

But Mom . . . .

Look Reese, Betty killed another possum but this is a big one. I need to get rid of it and you know how i feel about these things.

Are you crying?

Yes.

Okay. Is Betty okay? Is she going to get rabies? You didn't scold her, did you?

Your concern is overwhelming. I'll call you back. Love you.

MOM, she is okay, RIGHT?

I don't know how to really explain this next part - the picking up of the possum. I was using the shovels kind of like salad tongs, that only accomplished me gagging as the innards (yes, mr. science I know they have a more correct term - but here they are innards) fell out. It was too heavy for the snow shovel, and too big for the regular shovel. I"m not sure, I think I ended up putting the shovel shovel blade under the snow shovel scoop so there was more weight to hold it and scooping up as much of it as I could with it. As I dropped it in the trash bag, the flies swarmed me in anger, I could swear his tail twitched, and some of the innards landed on my shoe. The shoe that is now in the trash can.

This is early in the morning, so I'm not worried about seeing anyone.I'm walking with my eyes closed to the trash can, because somehow that makes it seem not so real. And then it happens! I hear, "Ms. Ralls, Ms. Ralls!" and the pounding of feet coming towards me with arms outstretched. You wouldn't think middle school boys would hug their teachers, but they do especially when you haven't seen them in awhile.

As I scream NOOOOO, two thoughts collide in my mind - I can't let them make me drop the trash bag and oh my gosh, i haven't put on a bra yet. (give me a break, it's early - i had just gotten up - okay, i'm lazy). Instinctively though not intelligently, I raise the trash bag to cover my . . . hmmm. . bust. That's when I feel the weight of the possum against my stomach. The boys talked. I've no idea what they were saying to me. Even my glasses fogged with tears didn't clue them in to the fact that this was a bad time. Eventually, I squeaked out - you boys get out of here, I have to see you enough in a couple of weeks - jokingly. Why couldn't they have been there 10 minutes earlier? They could have done possum duty.

I put the bag in the trash can. As I walk back to the house, I find myself wondering how much time will have to pass until I see the humor in this event. The boys yell from down the street. "Hey, Ms. Ralls - TGIF!"

Thank God it's Friday my ass!

That's the way we roll,
audra