It is late, I am sitting on the couch with my nose in a book. I appear to be reading, but really I am half asleep. I think I may have even fallen asleep for a moment. But then, suddenly, I hear a noise in the kitchen. It is after midnight and someone who is not me is in the kitchen. I hear shuffling and scraping.
Gingerly, I get up and tiptoe aroud the corner, my heart thumping. For a moment, I really am nervous. Then, I see this:
Rudiger, the architect of my fear, has set his sights on the discarded ground turkey packaging from dinner's soup making. The rustling was him clawing holes in the little, hanging plastic bag where we put small garbage. He has managed to remove the bottom and procure his prize. Alas, sweet victory is only momentarily his, because his mean owner takes the precious as soon as she sees it. He vows silently that vengance shall be his. Oh, yes it shall be his. But he is patient, so for now, he settles for glaring at me with major stink eye.
So, at 2 a.m., I find myself a little cold, but wide awake, having just come in from taking out the trash. Rudiger is less than pleased, but being as forgetful as he is vengeful, he will soon get over it.