Things that go bump in the night....

Living in a house as opposed to an apartment has taken some getting used to.  There are more creaks and squeaks around the place at night, not to mention more road noise due to the highway flyover being right by my place, but nothing I haven't gotten used to.  I've adapted so well that the only thing that normally wakes me is the infernal trash truck that likes to bash the dumpster about behind my house at 3 AM every other morning.

Until about 2 weeks ago.

I was woken up in the middle of the night to the sounds of someone, or something, evidently having a tap-dance party on my rooftop, right over my bedroom.  I immediately thought of the clutch of bums that like to crash in the green space behind my house, and tried to think of a reason they would be having a stomp-fest on my roof.  On second evaluation, I realized it sounded big, but not big enough to be a person.  I was exhausted, and didn't feel like going outside to do battle with an unknown foe on my rooftop, especially when my only weapons were a baseball bat and my bow and arrows.  (While the bow and arrows sound like a decent defense against an elevated enemy, I learned how to shoot at the Stormtroopers School of Archery, and the odds of me hitting my opponent were....well, nil.)

 So I took the typical approach of a six year old child - hid my head under my pillow and hoped it would go away.

It did....eventually.

Last night, my mysterious heavy-footed visitor returned, and woke me up again.  This time, I was having none of it.  Hobo, RoUS, cat or alien, I was done having my sleep disturbed.  I stomped out back and around the house to see what was cavorting on my rooftop.  I came around the corner to see a pair of black masked eyes peering cautiously down at me from near the ridge of the roof. 

Raccoons.  I should have known.  I reached down to find a rock to throw, but was unable to find one.  Great.  Mr. Raccoon continued to look curiously and condescendingly down on me, so I did the only thing I could think of - hissed at him like a seriously annoyed cat.  He looked somewhat disconcerted by this, but didn't move. I hissed again.  He still didn't move.  I stormed into the house to go find something to throw, came back out with my ice tray, and proceeded to pelt the little pest with ice cubes.  I think he finally got the idea, and after a brief siege to the chimney area, he beat a hasty retreat.

Still not sure what he was up to on the roof, but I really hope the memory of an irate, hissing, ice-cube hurling female will be enough to make him think twice before he tries to have another expedition to my roof.