09/10/2026
Never a dull moment in the Authement house.
So… here’s why I was awake in the first place.
Almost every night around 11:30, Eris wakes up either dazed and wandering like she’s sleepwalking, or screaming like she’s in pain but not actually aware I’m there. Basically night terrors. Nothing to do but wait it out and pray she doesn’t karate‑kick me in the process.
ANYWAY…
Last night she was on camera straight‑up sleepwalking. She walks to my closed bedroom door, just stands there staring at the wall like she’s buffering… then suddenly turns and takes off running back to her room. Two minutes later she comes back, cracks my bedroom door open like she’s about to enter… and immediately turns around and sprints back to her bed.
That’s when I get up to check on her — thinking she’s awake, confused, something.
Nope.
She is DEAD ASLEEP. Like she didn’t just do hallway laps at midnight.
So I’m awake, trying to fall back asleep, when I hear rustling on my side of the bed. We’ve had mice before, so naturally I assume they’re back.
I grab my flashlight, look down, and immediately SCREAM and smack Kenneth because there is a FREAKING POSSUM on my bedroom floor.
It runs under the bed. Kenny doesn’t believe me until it strolls out on his side like it pays rent. He jumps up, gets dressed, shuts our door to trap it out of the bedroom. I’m watching the camera like it’s a live episode of Animal Planet, and the intruder casually hides under the girls’ dollhouse.
Kenny walks right past it to go get a net from outside and shuts all the kids’ doors to contain it. Then—because of course—THE THING DISAPPEARS.
We can’t find it anywhere. So I Google how small of a space possums can squeeze through. Turns out: if their head fits, their whole body fits. Meaning 2–3 inches is basically a welcome mat.
Then I remember the hole in the wall behind the dresser. We pull the dresser out (AFTER Kenny already flipped couches, chairs, and moved the dresser once). Nothing. So we block the hole with a picture frame and push the dresser back.
Minutes later… scratching. Tail whipping. In the wall. Right behind the hole.
We sit there with a net for nearly an hour trying to coax it out. No luck. We can hear it, but it can’t go far because of insulation and studs. So at 2 a.m., exhausted and defeated, we put a board over the hole and go to bed.
To this very moment, I have no idea if there is still a possum living in my house.
So… everyone…
Meet Phill.
Our new live‑in pest control specialist.
He works nights, keeps mice and critters out, and apparently enjoys dollhouses and dramatic entrances.
(Photo from the Ring camera attached.)
