My Real Dream Houses: Part One, Tumbleweed Houses

I've been looking into various options for small, affordable, non-toxic house construction.

Tumbleweed Tiny Houses  www.tumbleweedhouses.com 

The company will build one for you and deliver it. It runs about $40,000 and up depending on the features and designs. One can also buy the plans and build it yourself. I read a recently article about a woman who did just that and spent $16,000 on supplies. Fortunately, she had friends and relatives in construction to help. She now has it parked on the ranch property of a friend. Nice. I also saw a post on Craigslist of a man who is experimenting with building tiny houses. He's thinking he can sell the finished product for $20,000. We'll see. Unfortunately for me I have bad construction karma so I would have to have someone build it for me.

These plans don't include non-toxic materials so I'm guessing costs would run higher to build it chemical-free and healthy enough for someone with MCS.

Tumbleweed has many different style plans. Here are my favorites:

This is a Weebee House. I would love a Weebee. So adorable.

This is a Walden House. I'd take a Walden, too.

This is a Whidbey House. In the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s, most people built little houses. Why did everyone give up that trend? Now all we see are enormous six bedroom houses with four-car garages. I prefer a smaller house. Tumbleweed has a variety of cottage plans, still small, but a little bigger than the ones on wheels.

I was expressing my tiny house desire to a friend of mine who was in construction and currently is building his own house. I explained the tiny house plan and asked him how much he would charge to build it for me. He said there is no way I could live in a tiny, ten by ten foot house. He said my computers alone would take up ten by ten feet. I argued.

This got me thinking. In the last couple weeks I've been cleaning closets and re-organize my stuff to sell this house. How did I accumulate so much junk in eight years?  Currently to live in a ten by ten foot space, I'd need to get rid of about 90% of it.  How do I do that? He's right: my computers do take up ten by ten feet of my office space and my library takes up another ten by ten feet more! (Don't tell him I said he's right. I'll never hear the end of it!) Hmmm...How do I downsize and still function like I do now? Am I being rational? Do I need to wait to retire? It'll definitely be a lifestyle adjustment.

Well, I've reinvented my life once, I can do it again.

Dream Themes

I've been having the weirdest dreams since I became chemically sensitive. The thing that makes them strange is the dreams repeat. I recognize the same setting and same themes over and over. I know certain foods affects dream states, but I'm pretty sure chemicals do too, since chemicals affect your brain and dreams are brain-based. My dreams are so very strange and how they change and evolve is even more mind-boggling.

Furniture dreams. I dream I'm living in a huge mansion. It's usually my house or my family's house and I can see the landscaped grounds from a window. Sometimes there are people in the house with me either people I don't know, friends, or relatives from my past, but it's as if I'm invisible and no one hears me speaking to them. I'm usually in the mansion on the lower floors, but I know there is a small, secret passage staircase to the upper floors that is hidden beyond the door to the left. I can't wait to climb those stairs and get up there. No one else knows about this passage. I look forward to my visitors arriving so I can show them. I try to leave to go up the stairs, but either something stops me, distracts me, I fall asleep, or on the way there I encounter rooms leading to other rooms or hallways like a maze. I'm never frustrated or scared because I like it that the rooms lead to other rooms and closets lead to back hallways. I'm fascinated by the architecture. I'm always looking forward to getting to the upper floors, but rarely do I ever get there.

On those few occasions I have reached the upper floor, it looks like a huge room in a warehouse with ten foot tall windows and the room is packed with antique furniture. Hundreds of couches covered in velvet, over-sized armoires with elaborate carvings, huge oak dining room sets with ornate chairs, large painted portraits with gilded frames, and fancy lamps all on top of floors covered in thick, oriental rugs. There are narrow walkways so one can meander around in between, but there is little room between the treasures. Everything is dark, yet rich looking. There are a few lamps on in the back of the room, but most of the light comes from the huge windows. I know it's my furniture. I worry I need to get rid of some of it so it all fits or I need to move it around so it's easier to use, but it's too heavy. I tell the people who are with me what we need to do to organize the furniture, but they aren't listening. Everyone is busy doing other things or moving other furniture on the other side of the room.

Some of these dreams take place in an apartment building located in the middle of a city. The architecture is very old and ornate and I visit this building often in my dreams. Like the mansion, I feel very at home there. The apartments have huge rooms, high ceilings and the windows are covered with thick draperies. The furniture is again, ornate, overstuffed, carved and beautiful, but not usually as cramped. 

Other dream scenarios I have just moved to a small apartment and the furniture won't fit or looks out of place. If it just looks out of place, I am determined to move it around so placement is at least attractive. In one dream I walked into the apartment, looked at all my furniture packed so tightly it's impossible to move around and realized in a panic I don't want to live there. I'm frantically trying get the movers to move the furniture out before anyone notices thinking if I can get it done quickly enough I can change my mind. But the furniture is heavy and the movers are getting in their trucks. Hey! Wait! Don't leave!


Pet dreams. I walk into a large room and there are cages and aquariums on shelves or bedding on the floors. It looks like a deserted pet shop. I realize I forgot I had these pets and they haven't been fed. I panic. I run around the room searching and I find most of the animals are dead or the aquarium water has almost evaporated. I start to find some animals are miraculously still alive. They are very excited to see me, but are too weak to move. I frantically try to find food or water to try to save them. It's a horrid dream. One night one of those pets was a horse. Other variations I have found a litter of kittens and they are starving or sick and dying.

Then for a while I was dreaming I'd find a litter of kittens but they were fat and fluffy. I know they are my kittens and they run to me when they see me. It seems I left them with someone who has been taking really good care of them.

Toilet dreams. In these dreams, I am always looking for a place to potty, but the toilet stalls and toilets are filthy. Excrement all over the toilet seats, dripping onto the floors. Everything is dark and wet, and I can hear the sound of dripping water echoing loudly. I'm usually in some kind of public toilet so there are multiple stalls. Some don't have doors or the door locks are missing. I keep checking each stall, but they are all filthy. I move farther into the restroom and the hallways get smaller and darker and the toilets dirtier. There is rust all over the sinks in the corner. I don't want to use any of them. Sometimes I am with a group of people and we are all needing to use the bathroom; or in other dreams people are in the restroom with me and I can see their shadows. In other dreams people are watching me from a distance and whispering to each other like there is something wrong with me because I don't want to use the toilets. Oddly enough, I am very calm in the dream except near the end when I'm worried I'm not going to be able to find a clean place to do my business. And you thought the pet dreams were going to be the weirdest? HA!

What triggered my desire to confess these dark recesses of my mind is last night I had a mansion dream, eager again to go up the hidden staircase as I wait for my friends to arrive but when they do we are talking non-stop catching up and decide we need to head to the ladies' room...of course, I can't find a proper toilet. My friend continues to talk so I know she obviously doesn't have toilet issues. I continue my search suprisingly not surprised dirty toilets are the norm in my huge mansion with lots of gorgeous furniture.

Woe is me. Maybe I should write screenplays for horror movies? Any dream interpreters out there? I've read on some sites what some of the symbolism might mean, but I don't buy it. I think I need a professional dream interpreter.

Anyone have weirder dreams than mine?

Winter Project...Done and Over!

Well, I downsized the winter project just to stay sane. Making thousands of beads could drive a person crazy. This is one bowl. I had about four bowls worth of beads.

 

Instead of making a door archway bead partition, I made a "where-the-dishwasher-would-go-if-I-had-one" curtain. It's always been kind of ugly and unfinished looking. Eventually I had planned to remodel the whole kitchen so I waited. But I hate dishwashers. Besides the toxic detergents one must use with them, I prefer the relaxation of my hands in warm water sudsy with Planet Dishwashing Liquid the Miracle Soap. I keep my garbage can and the plastic bag receptacle in the space. If I put the house up for sale, I need to camouflage the ugliness. Isn't it odd I didn't finish painting this until I was ready to get rid of the house? You'd think I would want to beautify it for ME!

So rather than bead enough beads to cover an archway which would take me until the next millennium to complete, I made a bead wall to cover the dishwasher space. I painted the inner walls so they are prettier and currently have a raging headache from the fumes. It reminds me why I wanted a non-toxic winter project this year!

Now I want to buy a new, brightly-colored rug to match. My old one looks faded and worn when next to these shiny, bright beads.

Now the fun begins. I get to clean up and put the house back in order....



 

 

The Bead Production Center formally known as "the Desk". What you can't see is the dried glue all over those white desk protectors. Icky. "The Desk" reborn:




 

 

The Varnishing Center

 

 

 

 

I love having winter projects to keep me busy, but they are always so messy. By the end of it I am so glad it's over. With the varnishing table gone, I have my aquariums ready to plant my indoor starts for the garden. (See the archway to the right in the photo below? Yes, it would have taken me years to finish enough beads to cover it. I tried.)

 

 



The Stringing Center



 

Stringing sounds very easy. Maybe it is for a patient person. I had to re-string nearly every one of these strands because I kept making them the wrong lengths. In addition, one must make very good knots in the fishing line so the beads stay put. 

 

 

I used 50 lb. fishing line for this. The heavier weight line helps the beads hang almost straight although the end of the strand wants to curve from the weight and the elasticity. Damn fish tails. Why can't they just hang straight like a $20 beaded partition? I tried thinner line, but they hung very crooked with the weight of every bead bending the line. 

The dining table is back to normal.

 

 



 

 

After four months of production, it's so nice to have the house back to normal! Now with indoor gardening starts, I'll mess it all up again and feel very relieved when the plants are finally transplanted outside in June. I'll enjoy the clean and wait a few days before messing it up again.



Winter Project Woes: Update

THESE BEADS ARE NEVER-ENDING!

 

I have made thousands of beads. It's going much slower than anticipated. After two months and hundreds of beads I thought I'd take a break and start stringing them. All that time and after making all those beads, it came to...six strands. Since I need about fifty strands to complete one room partition, this was very discouraging.

 

Still, I trudged onward. Bead after bead after bead.

 

Then I started running out of construction paper! It's hard to imagine I used a whole box of old construction paper to make beads. When I first looked at my supply I didn't think I would need all of it nor get through it all.

It's very difficult to find packages of single colors to match my selected color scheme. I searched art stores, novelty shops, online supply warehouses and even requested colors on Freecycle in hopes someone such as myself had a box of colored paper not being used. "Hey, I'll trade my putrid brown, dirty-looking tan, and gaudy gold for your blue!?" No takers.

PURPLE BEADS!

I did find one office supply store that sold a package of blue and white sheets together. For some reason the company's marketing department thought blue and white should go together in the same package. But what about the other colors? Even if I purchased a pack of 100 sheets of multiple colors I might only get one or two sheets of the color I need. If I could even find separate packages of colors, it was going to get very expensive.

FUSCHIA BEADS!

 

So I got creative. I just bought a whole lot of white construction paper knowing I wouldn't need all of it for the beads. I figured I could always use it for some kind of art. Why not paint it the colors I need? Of course, that defeats the purpose of a toxic-free winter project, but it's either stick to my principles or finish the project. I'd rather finish the project. The great thing about painted construction paper is the color doesn't come off on your hands like it does with the dyed construction paper.

 

TURQUOISE BEADS!

 

In attempt to match the colors to the beads already made, I now have a healthy supply of fuchsia, light blue, light green, purple and pink, with turquoise beads just for fun in case I decide to change my wall colors later. (I think I'd really like turquoise walls!)

Now I'm running out of black and red. Damn. And I might end up running out of those bamboo beads, too, and I have no idea where to get a supply of those. A case of poor planning, I think, but onward I trudge, bead after bead after bead...  I've gone through five bottles of Elmer's Glue!

Bamboo Beads That Are Quickly Running Out

I WILL get this done!

Bloggerversary!!

Today is my first bloggerversary! It's hard to believe I could babble for a whole year. In the beginning someone told me blogging is too much work, too much time commitment, and too much responsibility.  It involves idea brainstorms, writing, re-writing, researching, re-writing, spellchecking, and more topic development. Add the illustrations and the photography and it's nearly a full-time job. It's not for everyone.

Has it been worth it? Yes! I highly recommend it. Other than the steep learning curve and the occasional technical glitch, there are few disadvantages to blogging, but many benefits. The first and most important benefit is the communication factor. As I've mentioned many times over the last year, I live alone in a town on the outskirts of civilization. The few friends and relatives I do have live hours away and most of them don't like to email as much as I do. I know few people in my area and those I do know I avoid as I value my health. Self-imposed exile is harsh especially in the middle of no where and having a blog affords me the opportunity to talk. Even if I'm talking to no one, I'm still communicating by expressing myself through words and pictures. It makes me feel alive. The comment section is a bonus and each response is a gift.

The second benefit is entertainment. Prior to the blog, I rarely used my camera. Now it's my partner in crime. I take it everywhere to document experiences in case I end up blogging about the event. I take pictures of the most mundane things! I also never really did much illustration or watercolor and having a blog has given me the opportunity to explore this medium. When work gets slow or the exile gets boring, the blog is there to keep me busy and entertained. Even if I'm not writing, I'm reading my own past posts or the blogs of others. I can't imagine not having a blog.

Education. I feel like I'm helping others who are chemically sensitive by sharing my experiential learnings. It's been a long, difficult adjustment to get to where I am now. I hope anyway, that sharing my experiences is helpful and makes someone else's life a little easier. Also, those who share their experiences are constantly educating me, too.

 

And last, it's incredible therapy! I am free to develop ideas, consider options, express my feelings, acknowledge my fears, identify my personal issues, explore my weaknesses, and work out solutions. Sometimes I even get feedback: comments agreeing with my ideas, supporting my opinions or telling me I'm full of shit. Like therapy, I can monopolize the conversation and not feel badly about it. And unlike therapy, it's FREE!

The first month of blogging I wrote 26 posts or almost one a day. It was off-season for work so I had a lot of free time and starting out I had a lot to say about chemical sensitivity. Last month, a year later, I wrote only six. Granted, I've been really busy, but I confess I've purge almost every subject on chemical sensitivity that I am passionate about. Now it's just the day to day survival experiences I have to share. I've heard the first six months of blogging is the easiest and after that keeping up the momentum can be difficult. Businesses and celebrities who have blogs for public relations purposes often hire people for blog maintenance and to write posts for them. I won't be hiring anyone to blog for me so I do wonder if I'll be able to keep up the posts, but there is no minimum requirement so I'm not going to worry about it. And it's free. That also may change someday but until then, hooray for blogging!

I want to thank Evelyn, my blog mentor, who initially inspired me and who has been there with answers to my burning blogging questions. She made that learning curve less steep. Thank you, Evelyn!

Happy Bloggerversary to me!

Housing: The Fear of Moving

 

I'm looking for a new place to live. I love my house but it's far away from civilization. This is good if you want to be away from people and pollution, but not so good if you want a place to get organic food or need medical attention. And my house isn't far enough away as my inconsiderate neighbors stink as does the town's mill. I need to be out in the country, but closer to civilization.

 

 

I've contacted a real estate agent to help me sell this house which is an extremely scary idea. It will involve inviting strange people to walk around my personal space, look at my personal belongings, and contaminate my only safe place on earth.

And then, where do I go if it sells? The great thing about this house is it's paid. No rent or mortgage and when looking toward the future, this is a good thing. I'm afraid of purchasing again. Mortgages are hell. The interest alone can double the cost of a house and I don't have lots of spare cash lying around to buy something outright. Being closer to civilization means much more debt as property is more expensive the closer one gets to a city. Besides the cost, I'm still not sure if I want to ever buy again as I don't know if I want the responsibility of maintenance or harassment of construction workers.

So I'm weighing my options. Do I go back to renting?

 

My current idea is to rent while I'm trying to sell the house so I don't have to worry about stinky, prospective buyers walking in and out of my house and I can move much of my stuff out so it's de-personalized and presentable for showing. I would like to remove Peter as well so I don't have to worry about him. I'm hoping if I find a good place to rent I won't feel the need to buy.


I've been looking at rentals off and on for about four years. The last apartment rental cost me $425 a month, but that was nearly ten years ago, and of course, prices have nearly doubled. I have no desire to live in an apartment with shared walls. And Peter is still alive so my options are limited. I need an outdoor space for him.

Lately I've been looking at small houses. I am finding some, but the rents are anywhere from $700 to $1500 per month. Naturally those $1500 a month rentals are much nicer and cleaner with lovely features such as views of lakes or beaches, fields or mountains. Very hard to justify since I'm currently paying 0 (zero!) for rent right now.

I found what seemed like a good place a few months ago. The landlord claimed it was a cottage, out in the woods on property with a washer and dryer. My definition of a cottage is a small, freestanding, single story building. I asked basic questions via email: electricity vs. propane, hardwood flooring vs. carpeting, lease and deposit information, neighbors and their barking dogs, appliances, etc.

When everything seemed to pan out I moved to my second phase of questioning: Peter. Most places don't allow pets, meaning cats or dogs, indoor animals. Peter is a special situation since he'll never be living indoors to pee all over the floors and he's not going to bite or bark. Still, I need enough room to build him an outdoor cage.

Even that all worked out and I made an appointment to see the cottage, but I needed to ask one more question. I didn't want to ask it, but I also didn't want to waste my time since the drive was three hours one way. I emailed: Do you wear cologne? I explained I had allergies. He did mention in an earlier email he lived on the property although about 500 feet away. Too close if he wears cologne. And if he wears cologne and wants to do repairs in my home, in my air space, not going to happen. No answer. Hmmm...my spidey instincts flared. Something was wrong. Why wasn't he responding? It's not that difficult a question.

The landlord asked me to call him before leaving for the appointment to confirm so that morning I did. He was expecting my call and without so much as a greeting he screamed,

"WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS A DATING SERVICE?"

Whoa! I stuttered, "Ah, ah, um, no." Nothing like a stupid, smart-ass question to throw me off guard. I should have hung up, but I was in a state of shock.

He went on to yell at me about a previous tenant who was chemically sensitive and bipolar. When he paused mid-holler, I tried to explain I was not bipolar, but he wasn't interested in what I had to say. He just wanted to rant.

 

He interrupted me, "NO, LET ME FINISH!" and on and on he went about what a pain in the ass his former tenant was and how she threatened to sue him for not providing a chemically-free environment, and then about another tenant who demanded the shared laundry room to be fragrance-free. THEN he said how he could not be around perfumes or colognes either because of his asthma. ???????? What a contradiction.

Where do I find these people? I think I'm a crazy-magnet.

Although he was acting more bipolar than anyone I've ever known, he was also giving me a lot of information. The cottage was not a cottage at all, but an apartment off a garage. LIAR. The washer and dryer was not in my cottage, but housed in a shared area. LIAR. There would be other tenants. LIAR. I was a little disappointed he blatantly lied about nearly everything, but wondered why was he acting so crazy if he, too, did not want to be around perfumes or colognes?

When he finished his rant, I took a deep breath and said very quickly, "I would like to cancel the appointment. Good-bye." I hung up before he could respond. I felt very fortunate I was not in a hurry to find another place to live and so thankful for my house. For all it's inconveniences, it was still safe and mine.

 

This one experience has reminded me how horrid renting can be. Even if I get past all the rental scams in the online classified ads or the frustration of prospective landlords who are too lazy to answer questions, there are always the crazy people imposing their craziness on you as if it's their right. Suppose this guy's insanity didn't rear it's ugly head until after I had moved in? <Shiver>

Even if the landlord is sane, a chemically-sensitive tenant is at the landlord's mercy and they can thoughtlessly contaminate your living space in the blink of an eye. Most of these little cottages I'm looking at are on the property of the landlords. Those who live on the property want control. I had another prospective landlord tell me I could have my rabbit outside as long as his dwelling was not visible. Really? HOW would that be possible?

I think with a bigger house I would have more privacy, but I don't want to be giving someone $1500 or more a month for rent and I'm not really interested in living in a big house anyway. I already have two bathrooms to clean and that is one too many.

So I'm back to considering buying property and building a tiny house. Not sure if this is a good idea, but I'm looking at the options.

Service Day!

It's Service Day once again! Otherwise known as Martin Luther King Jr. Day which President Obama designated as the day we should all come together to volunteer for our communities. I head down to the wetlands trail at the bottom of the hill to pick up garbage left by lazy, thoughtless people misusing and abusing nature. It's quiet. The air is fresh smelling and clean. I do my part without subjecting myself to smelly people.

 

 

It was a cold, frosty day.

 

The morning sun was defrosting much of the ground, but patches of ice remained.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As beautiful as it was, this made some of the garbage difficult to see.

 

Is it ice or white paper? Hmmm...

 

And much of the garbage was frozen solid to the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

Candy wrappers, napkins, plastic bags, paper bags and a piece of wood. I don't pick up toilet paper. Eeewww...filthy! I wish lazy, uncivilized people would use a toilet before visiting the park OR at the very least BURY IT!

I also found some new trails.

 

 

One from my new neighbor's house which might account for the excessive amount of dog shit all over the trail.

 

I don't pick up dog shit either. Gross.

 

 

Another trail led to a newly constructed fort. With candy wrappers surrounding it, I can guess some neighbor kids must have been feeling energetic.

In year's past, there used to be lots of garbage, old tires, soccer balls, boxes, and I'd drag home several bags of garbage, but there isn't much anymore. Maybe I have made a difference over the years in my own small way?

I think I need a new service day project that involves a little more work.



'Possum Wrangling Retirement...Correction: SEMI-RETIREMENT!

Not a peep out of any opossum since the day after I shipped Santy Claws out to the hinterlands. I'm a little disappointed. I was hoping to catch a second opossum so Santy Claws would have his friend with him. No noise. No sightings. I can only imagine the second opossum must have realize after that first night Santy Claws was missing and went looking for him, leaving for good. Or something else was making the noise and I have no idea what it was.

I hope it's all over. I removed the trap and will soon return it to my neighbor. Hopefully for good.

Well, that lasted a few days!  I notice something is adjusting the netting again so either the friend of Santy Claws was here checking on him or something else knows about the hole. Here we go again! It feels like my fortress is under siege. The Winter War. Last night I put the trap back out there right next to the hole and found nothing to show for my efforts the next morning. So frustrating.

The Hole. Hmmm.... Years ago I hired a crawlspace/insulation person to put screening under the house to keep the critters out. Today, as a last ditch effort to secure the perimeter,  I got desperate, donned a very un-fashionable construction-man jumpsuit, hat, gloves, goggles, boots and using an extension cord with a light bulb on the end of it ventured under the house. Nasty place. It's like evil lives there. Dark, damp, cobwebs with big ugly spiders and remnants of things they've devoured. And then there is the cayenne pepper I've thrown all over in hopes of sanctifying the evil and discouraging the creepy crawlies. Sure enough one of the critters figured out how to bend the screen back to create a nice little hole to slip through. I plugged it up with bricks and readjusted the screen.  I feel fortunate to have survived the expedition.

Then I sneezed for the next hour while my eyes watered uncontrollably. I'm not sure why Santy Claws doesn't care about the cayenne pepper?

Update: Not a peep. I think the war has been won.

'Possum Yummies: Round Eleven

I'm becoming a connoisseur of 'possum delectables.

 

Camping food for the outdoorsy sort.

 

I don't know if the hot dogs are as sweet smelling as the luncheon meat.

 But the marshmallows are!

 

 

 

I added some smelly jelly, but I think that will just make everything sticky.

 

 

What opossum can resist such a feast?

 

I'm leaving the trap where it is. Wish me luck!

 

 

Round Ten

Feeling pretty defeated after two weeks of 'possum wrangling and no opossum to show for it, I called the Wildlife Control company in my area. I got a voice message saying to leave a message. I didn't. I decided I'd call them tomorrow. I had a little more fight left in me although I'm not sure where I got the energy having spent most of the night listening to Santy Claws tap dance underneath my house.

I needed a new plan. I bought some luncheon meat as suggested by my trapper-neighbor. It was either that or marshmallows and luncheon meat was half the price. If I catch the neighbor's cat, he gets a free trip to no where. Not like I haven't fantasized about that! After much contemplation, I selected the "Honey Turkey" flavor thinking Santy Claws would like that best. I ran into my friend at checkout and told her I was grocery shopping for a opossum. A OPOSSUM!!! Unbelievable. She laughed.

I also moved the trap. Obviously it wasn't working at the shed even though that is where a Santy Claws hole is located. I went to the other known hole on the other side of the house next to the driveway and unblocked it, removing all the chicken wire, boulders and boards. The place where I first met Santy Claws. I thought, "It has come full circle...." I unblocked the hole, set up the trap just right so he couldn't get wily and trip it, sprinkled tuna juice and salmon juice all around, and strategically placed the honey turkey front and center on top the apple cores, blueberries, tuna, and bananas that were already in the trap although a little soggy from the last rain. I placed boards over the trap to shield it from the rain. I blocked the shed hole. This was my last hope. If it didn't work, I planned to call Wildlife Control and pay some big bucks to have a brave soul venture into the crawlspace and yank the Santy Claws out by his tail. Why can't I catch a opossum like everyone else? Woe is me.

The great thing about this new set up is it's right under my bedroom window. For the last two weeks I'd been getting up in the middle of the night to peer out the window in hopes of seeing the success of my efforts. It's been exhausting. I hoped instead of hearing hours of tap dancing I would hear a nice big BANG as the trap door closed shut. I left my window open so I wouldn't miss the excitement.

At 11:30pm I awoke to a slight, soft rattling noise. Hmmmm...one is never sure about noises in the middle of the night. I listened and waited. Then another rattle...rattle...rattle...BANG! BANG! BANG! Santy Claws was not too happy about being a prisoner. It sounded like he was annihilating the cage or someone was rolling it down the driveway. I just laid there smiling.

Awww...so cute.

 

I considered letting him sit in that trap until morning as punishment for his bad behavior, but I knew I wouldn't get any sleep. Considering how clever he is, I was afraid he'd somehow figure out how to open the door and sneak out. I wouldn't get another chance for sure. And I wanted to let him loose in the dark so he would feel more comfortable in a strange place.

He was so cute!  Fluffy fat body with a tiny little face and beautiful, beady eyes. When I'd get close to the cage he'd get real still and stare at me. Not a mean bone in his little body. No growling, snarling, hissing or showing of fangs. I kinda wanted to cuddle with him. He also ate all the food so at least he would be full and satisfied when I dumped him out in the middle of no where.



"OK, I ate everything. Now let me out."

At exactly midnight, Santy Claws had a new home about two miles away, up a logging road, in the woods, where I dump all my garden clippings. Lots of places for him to hide and far from a highway. I can't believe I was driving around in the woods at midnight.



A Opossum Possessed! LET ME OUTTA HERE!

Adios, Santy Claws! Don't come back! I'm so happy he's no longer using my insulation for a bed and overjoyed that he was not poisoned and dead under my house. You can't imagine how wonderful I felt! Total satisfaction.

For about a day...the next morning the tapping started again. Santy Claws must have a friend. I need some more Honey Turkey luncheon meat. Maybe I'll buy some marshmallows for his dessert.

The joys of country living.

Santy Claws = 8 Possum Wrangler = 0

Round 9.

How many rounds does one go in boxing before they've lost? I think I've lost, but I haven't given up!

With much disappointment, I dismantled the garbage can traps. On the light blue garbage can I could see little paw prints where Santy Claws was trying to figure out how to get to the food without getting stuck. They were on the rim and about five inches down the inside. He was reaching as far as his little arms could go without falling in. He is definitely an exceptionally smart opossum.

So it's time to get serious. Traps are really expensive. They can be rented from the Humane Society, but, hey, wait a minute! I'm surrounded by hunters and trappers. My neighbor has been bragging to everyone he has trapped at least forty raccoons and opossums in the last year. When I saw him outside today I asked him if he would help me catch my pet opossum that is residing under my house. I added I haven't heard the opossum for a while so he might have left. He said, "Oh, no. Once make themselves at home, they don't leave." I didn't tell him Santy Claws might be dead. So he loaned me his trap!

I hope it works. I put some tasty treats for bait: 1/2 banana and an apple core. Trapper guy said sometimes it doesn't trigger. I'm more worried Santy Claws will get caught because it's been freezing at night. I don't want him to stay out there too long so I think I'll leave my window open and hopefully when the trap snaps, I'll hear it.

I'm excited!!



Ho! Ho! Ho! You can't catch me!

New Year's Resolution: Catch the Santy Claws.