Tonight after a full day of Halloween activities I was attacked in my own home by HAMMY! Yes, you read that right, 3 days after we thought the thing was gone it was still in my house! I was putting up a bag when it tried to attack me. It didn't break any skin, probably because it was so dehydrated. I SCREAMED (again) and grabbed the kids and ran out of the house. I was on the phone with my mom and I think she thought we had an intruder because I was screaming and crying. So then my daughter was screaming and crying. My son was laughing. I told her to send my dad over NOW! My husband puts on a football helmet, grabs a tennis racket, and a broom and goes to find it. It was still in the same place. He and dad got it in a bucket and took it outside. These are officially my least favorite animal that God created. I mean really. They are just rats that live in trees. The sad thing is that we brought my parents' springer spaniel over to sniff around to see if he could find it the other day. Useless dog. My dad wants to know when I'll stop calling my 75 year old father to help with these things. Um, when he is dead.
I have nothing 'spiritual' to add to this. The end.