"I'm just manly," he shrugged by way of an explanation.
You see, last weekend we had a pretty decent storm. It blew down some big branches in our yard and flooded our creek. When Curtis went out to survey the aftermath, he realized that we had some messed-up shingles on the roof, which we assumed was from the bad weather.
But when the insurance adjuster came to look at it yesterday morning (before which I cleaned my house and made coffee and put on a bra just in case and he didn't even come in, ugh) he had a different diagnosis: raccoons.
Apparently we've got one trying to get into our attic to nest, and it's tearing through the roof to get there.
Curtis is a rare kind of dude who can adapt to any situation. He would fit right in at an upscale social event or important business meeting ... but this is also a man who was raised in a rural-Missouri community that's smaller than some high-school graduating classes. He can catch a fish with his bare hands, y'all. And I guess when it comes to dealing with the raccoon, he's going back to his country roots, where shooting stuff is always a viable answer.
Welcome to Redneckville, population The Templeton Family.
I oppose his method. But that's mostly because I tend to personify animals, or anthropomorphize them or whichever term means "to give human characteristics to non-human things." (I could look it up but you get the idea.) I glaze over the roof thing, and the piles of raccoon crap on the deck, and instead picture a motherly raccoon, like, tucking her little raccoon babies into a fluffy bed of leaves and chirping, "Mommy's going to find us a wonderful place to live, my darlings! Kisses!" and then blam!, she's coon-skin cap material.
"I look especially rugged in my faux-coonskin hat from furhatworld.com. It'd be even better with a shotgun and a steak."
And I hate that.
But, you know, the roof. As in, we can't afford to let a raccoon ravage our shit.
So Curtis is determined to put an end to it in what he's deemed the most efficient (and least expensive) way. And as much as it bugs me ... *in my best Kanye West voice* ... I'ma let him finish.
Besides, raccoons are nocturnal. So considering Curtis would have to be awoken by its presence, get out of bed, put his contacts in, load the gun, and sneak up on the thing ... I'd say it's got a pretty good chance anyway.
I mean, you remember how we were with the burglar.