"Did we lock the door?" I asked Chuck.
"I think so," he said, already unwrapping his legs from blankets. "I'll go check."
I heard it again while he was gone and then the thuds of him sprinting up the steps. He ripped open the bedroom door.
"You have to look outside," he stage whispered, then went on to describe a scene resembling the slick poncho-wearing feral personality from "The United States of Tara."
We turned off the lights and I peered out from behind the shade.
She was crouched on the sidewalk studying the contents of our Little Free Library. She had hair down to here and so many legs. When she finally stood up, I saw that she had selected a pre-Scott Pilgrim Bryan Lee O'Malley. She tottered a bit. She walked away with a drunken tilt.
Stupid gravity. But nice get.
Also: I saw a snake today (in its natural habitat).
Also also: Chacha has a mega-mosquito bite that is big enough to host its own mosquito-bitten face.