Tonight I walked out of the garage and around the corner to toss a bag Into the trash can and passed through the Mother of Charlotte's Parka of spiderwebs. Steeling myself I completed my duty and again rounded the corner wondering upon which pass Charlotte camped out on my neck or shoulder or toe.

As I'm again standing at the mouth of the garage, this time, flailing wildly to rid myself of the arachnid anal sinew I pause to admire the nearly full moon. It's my thing. It's what I do.

To my left, trotting along and coming toward me is a middle-aged fox -- not a baby and not yet(?) a parent. It stops one foot in front of me, looks up, realizes I'm not a light post and bolts across the neighbor's front lawn. In the time it took me to type this I expected that by now a grizzly bear would have pulled up the driveway in a Toyota Corolla, exited, and asked where my next student loan payment is. It's been that kind of night.