Ewwwww! No really, I am so not kiddding! EWWWWWWWWWWW!
I just let the pup out for the 300th time to pee. We have these racoon-proof garbage cans (why am I suddenly blogging about garbage so much?) and I noticed that the cleaning lady did not lock the handles. The last time this happened the poor little guy got into the can, ate what I am pretty sure was 2-year-old halloween candy that my son threw out (in a Ralph Lauren pillowcase I might add) and then promptly dropped dead in the middle of the street in front of my house. (the racoon, not my son).
That said, the only humane thing to do is make sure the handles are locked at night. So – uch, I can hardly write this one – when I went to lock the handle, squeezing it with my left hand…
there was a friggin slug on it and it slimed me!! I am not talking don’t be such a girl it can’t be that bad kind of slime. I am talking washed my hands 2x and it still would not come off sort of thing. Seriously, this was some kind of cosmic sticky snot I had here on my hand. After the first washing I thought it was off and that there was just a little soap left on my hand. Of course I went after Gary as if I had cooties and kept trying to touch him. (I can be such an infant sometimes).
He was not amused.
I finally had to scrub it off with a towel (not a Ralph Lauren one, thank goodness).
This all begs the question: would you rather have a dead racoon in the middle of the road in front of your house, or be slimed by a slug and not able to get it off?
i could cry but i don't have time 