Last night I pulled into my driveway. I saw a raccoon scuttle along the roof of my neighbor's shed. I'm afraid of being bit by a raccoon. I'm afraid of contracting rabies. I'm afraid a critter will bite me in my sleep and I will not know it. I will not seek treatment. I will die of rabies. This is, of course, OCD nonsense. My OCD is on the ropes and very close to being defeated, but it still rears its ugly head when given the least stimulus. If a raccoon bit me at anytime I would damn well know it! Those things have damn sharp teeth!

Last night it was raining. Despite hysterical news reports I did not think it was raining that hard. I suppose it is only because there are flooding issues in North Jersey.

I heard noises on the portion of my roof that is directly above my bathroom. I could not tell if the scraping sounds were animal claws or tree branches. The wind was not particularly heavy, so I thought it may have been raccoons. However, I heard none of the characteristic raccoon squeaking noises.

I also heard noises in the kitchen ceiling directly under the bathroom. there is a hole in that ceiling directly above the sink. The hole was formed in 2005 due to a leak from the bathroom floor. The hole has been there for years. At times wood, concrete and various other silt-like pebbles fall from this hole.

Would the sorry state of my house make it easy for raccoons to enter? All sorts of noises.

The noises were really the house falling apart. It must be increasingly difficult for it to stand up to weather. The rain was causing the problems. If raccoons made it into the house the entire house would have been destroyed. Those animals cause massive damage.

Something needs to be done. That house has been impacting my health for years. It floods, it crumbles, it's overwhelmed with dust and mold. It smells like mildew. I strongly suspect that the state of my environment has contributed to the depression that I have suffered for about 4 of the 6 years that I was there.

I'm grateful to at least have a roof over my head (even if I am not sure if it bars animals from the premises) but I really can't wait to leave. I'm so sick of living in dust and mold. I haven't smoked a cigarette in years and each morning when I wake up I feel like I smoked a whole pack the night before.

Part of my permanent defeat of misery will be an escape from miserable surroundings. But what am I to do? I have no money. I really need to write a best-selling novel. I'm working on it. Working hard. But not hard enough.