cynthia

DISCLAIMER: I swear I am NOT making this up. Swear. "Did you know," said Tami, "That your bird just set off the burglar alarm?" Tami is a friend who also happens to clean my house every couple of weeks. We've known each other for years, we trade arttalk (she's a skilled painter and concrete sculptor), and occasionally we grab lunch or share farmer's market stuff or something. I think she believes that I come from another planet, but in her view that just makes things more interesting.

"Would you please put a sock in it?" I called wearily, "It's 4:00 in the morning, Nate!" Whatever Nate the Mouse was doing in the living room obviously took precedence over my good night's rest, because he'd been doing it for hours. At last, I stomped downstairs and turned on the lights, to scare him off. Didn't even slow him [...]

Jane Goodall and I have a lot in common. I'd have made a pretty good wildlife scientist, living alongside my furry, tick-ridden subjects, eating the food they eat, sharing their miseries--drenching rain, biting gnats and hungry tigers. In fact, I'd probably be doing that right now if room service wasn't so sketchy in the jungle. Despite my great love of wildlife, however, I never invite it into the house. And so the mouse in my living room is a bit of a problem.