Wherein Bry deals with animals.

I feel as though somewhere in the past few days, I missed some sort of memo regarding the proper place to go poop. As though all my preconceived notions regarding the proper pooping procedures are suddenly out dated. Am I operating under 2009 sanitary standards, similar to reading the 2010 Farmer's Almanac when the 2011 is available?

Monday, as I looked at the newest pile of poop sitting on the bathroom floor, I briefly thought "I could walk away, go to the back office, clock out, and let AC deal with this."

But then I decided there was a possibility that AC would know that I bailed on the BM and then hate me for doing so. And as I told another new employee that day "It is way too early in your career here to start hating me," which is true for AC, too.

Side note: Knowing her initials are AC, I kind of want to call her Slater, in reference to AC Slater. End of side note.

On Saturday I happened upon a sizable chunk of real estate lingering on the tile floor in the lady's bathroom at work. A sizable chunk similar to those seen while hiking in the woods and happening upon some animal droppings.

The only animals on the loose in Lake O are cougars of the human variety.

I'm not sure what was worse, that someone pooped on the floor and then left or that multiple people went into the bathroom and then didn't say anything.

Either way, I spent an hour cleaning the bathroom.

Speaking of animals, the other night I was walking home rather late when I saw a fat grey cat scurrying towards me. "Oh!" I exclaimed as I walked towards it, bending so I could pet his or her fat head.

Yeah, it was a raccoon. That little bastard let me get really close.