I have gone to sleep over 23,600 times and now there is a racoon on mypatio. This racoon isn't afraid of me at all. He has the look of a rascal. It appeared the glass door and stomped my foot and he just looked up at me questioningly. "What do you expect me to do? Run? Please." Yes, I want you to run. Show a little respect. 23,600 days and nights on this earth has left me with this damn patio, and I don't want a racoon on it. He waddles off toward my jasmine, perhaps he smells it, I don't know. Above us, the full moon is glowing with delight.