A Creature Was Stirring

So this morning I went down to the kitchen and threw some things in the trash can.  Since the bag had only a few items in it, I wasn't too surprised when I heard some noise.  Figured it was simply the trash settling to the bottom of the bag.  

Then I heard it again.  I waited.  Heard it again.  So now I'm pretty sure the trash has had plenty of time to settle and something else has settled in our kitchen can.  Aaaaaaah!

It kinda sounded like a turtle trying to get out of a cardboard box, but I knew right away it wasn't that.  Duh.

Now what?

Option 1:

Gather up everything I might need for a day without a kitchen, back away and close the door.  I grabbed Winslow, my cell phone, a glass and a bottle of wine.  That should do it.

Then I had the dreadful thought that the stirrer might decide to exit the can for exploration purposes and who knows where it might go?  Open the door and go up the stairs?  

No, there had to be a better way.

Option 2:

Call Jim to come home from work.  Now for those of you who know me, you know I would never do that.  I don't even know his number.  Seriously, I haven't called Jim at work since 2007 and that was my second time to do that.

Option 3:
Somehow trap it and keep an eye on it for the next 7 hours until Jim comes home from work.  Now, I may do a lot of sittin' around, but even I couldn't imagine doing that.

Realizing I had no option but to take care of this myself, I thought and thought and thought because I surely didn't want to screw this up.

Only Option:

Kill it.  But what if it's a hedgehog?!  I could be fined for exterminating all that adorableness.  

Since it's not Noon yet and I still have on my pajamas :-| I figure I should probably put shoes on before I proceed.  So I back away and exit the kitchen, go upstairs and try to decide on which shoes would be appropriate with this particular outfit.  I go with tennis shoes.  I also decide to put my raincoat on because it has a pocket for my cell phone.  Not to call Jim, but to possibly take a photo.

Now, write this down for future reference . . . I soaked a big beach-size towel with water, slid the barstool near the trash can, stood on the barstool (with tennis shoes on - safety first) and threw the wet towel over it.  

Trapped! But now what?

Since I'm pretty sure bleach kills the AIDS virus, I figure it will at least stun the stirrer long enough to figure out my next move.  Take notes in the event you need this later . . . I poured a whole bottle of bleach over the wet towel and into the can.  And then I waited.  And listened.  Listened some more.

Nothing.  So I grab the tongs and slowly drag the bleach-reeking-towel-covered can out onto the patio . . .

feeling heinous, bereaved, guilty and relieved.

So . . . when Jim does get home, I'll update on what poor creature made the mistake of finding our trash can.  That is, if you want to know :-\