I was driving down the lovely Devine Street today with the windows down, the sunroof open, and some Fleetwood Mac greatest hits playing. I was thinking how much I love that street and how I wanted to go back to Kicks later to find some new sandals and flats. I was thoroughly enjoying my morning off and couldn't wait to get my pedicure.
Then I see a perfectly normal looking Southern woman walk to the middle of the road and wrap something around her hand to cover it up. She starts to bend over and as I'm getting closer I can see that she's going to pick up something in the road. But what is it? I get closer and realize that it's definitely road kill. And she's picking it up. Picking up the road kill on Devine Street.
As I get right next to her, I've slowed my car down to 5 miles per hour to get a good look at the dead opossum (is the "o" really necessary?) that she's carrying by its nasty pink tail. Never in my life.
I guess I've always wondered who moves the road kill from the street to the curb, but I just never imagined it to be such a lovely looking woman. If it had been me I'm sure the possum that I assumed was dead would all of a sudden wake up (from "playing possum") and take a bite out of my hand and give me rabies.