Sometimes I feel like an old-fashioned pioneer woman in the late 1800's who's moved west for one reason or another. Perhaps marriage. Perhaps hope for a better opportunity. Whatever the case, she is a refined woman of the east, and she's not used to getting her hands dirty, and adjusting to her new life takes time and patience.
So I didn't move THAT far west. Really, moving from NJ to PA is no great leap. And certainly, there are different parts of NJ and PA both. Some parts are rural, some are suburban, and some are city. Brian has always referred to me as being more "city" than he is. Even though where I am from is by no means a city, and truly I am not a "city" girl, I understand what he means. A farm girl I am not. While I loved my "Little House on the Prairie" books as a child, I can only guess how well I'd do living on a farm.
When I moved here, it was an adjustment of sorts. It simply isn't what I'm used to, and while that isn't a bad thing, it means that it takes time to become accustomed to what has previously been foreign to me.
I won't rehash the mouse story, but I don't think I would be telling an untruth when I say that I'm not quite over that whole traumatic episode. While things have calmed down in that regard, I haven't let down my guard, so to speak.
Last night, or rather, very early this morning, we had another kind of visitor. I had gotten up around 3:30 to use the restroom (the joys of pregnancy!), and I had just settled back in bed when I heard a definite noise. At first, I was terrified someone was trying to break in. While thinking that very thing, I started to wake my sleeping husband, and just as I was nudging him, I realized that a bear must be in our trash. He came to and got to action, and I have to give him credit, because normally he doesn't wake up so easily. He ran to our bedroom window and started banging on it in hopes of scaring the monster away. We heard quiet, so we went back to bed, I with the flashlight in my hand, feeling somehow safer with it, though I knew I wasn't going back to sleep.
We heard more noise a minute or two later, and we got up again. Brian tried opening the front door, with warnings from me, "Don't you dare go out there!" in the background, and he started shouting at the bear, which honestly, he couldn't see since it was around the corner of the house. Then he ran for some of my skillets, and he started banging them together. He did that outside the front door, and he also opened the garage and made some noise there because the bear was outside the garage door wall.
We went back to bed. I am envious of Brian's ability to put things behind him and get right back to sleep. No such luck for me. I was still too scared, thinking of this beast right outside my wall, rummaging through my trash, and thinking of the mess we'd have to clean up. We heard no further movements, but I feared seeing the disaster come morning.
Brian left for work and I asked him to tell me how bad it was. He said it wasn't a mess, but that the can was moved quite a ways. I haven't been outside yet, but I am not touching anything until he comes home.
I try to be careful with what we throw out. I'm guessing the guilty food was the bone-in pork chops I had made for dinner a few nights ago. After we threw the remains out, I actually said to myself, "I hope that isn't going to be a problem." As it is, we still have some of those pork chops remains in our current bag of trash in the house. I have already pledged to dig them out and have Brian throw them into the woods instead of our trash can.
So I'm still learning. Our neighbors had a bear get into their trash a week or so ago, and they've been here longer, so I'm trying not to be too hard on myself. This is something I never had to worry about in my former life. And I'm not sure it won't happen again, even if I am careful. It is summer, and the weather is warm, so no doubt those scents are wafting through the air, luring these prowlers in like a moth to a flame. I just wish they weren't so noisy about it, nor so messy. Go ahead and have the trash, just please put it all back in the bag and make it nice and tidy. Thank you.
That's our latest! I'm surprised my early morning terror didn't send me into labor. One of these days, one of these days.
Update: It turns out the bear actually DID NOT get into the trash. He knocked the can over and dragged it a bit. Brian keeps bungee cords on the can, and while that wouldn't stop a bear in the least, it could possibly slow him down. After Brian banged the skillets, we think the bear took off. Brian poured ammonia in the trash can last night, and it was untouched this morning as well. Looks like I'll be stocking up on ammonia!
Update to the update: Mr. Bear came back and DID get into our trash last night. This was after several precautions were taken, so I'm at my wit's end. It's not fun getting up at 5:30 a.m. and picking up your scattered trash. When Brian has more time on his hands, we can burn our compost in the backyard, but with a baby coming, I can't say that's our number one priority at the moment. The only good bear is a teddy bear!
