What the Yeti’s going on?

While partaking in one of life’s little pleasures (scraping 100-square-feet of 50-year-old Linoleum off a hard wood floor with a one-inch putty knife) I had time to reflect. I had time to talk to myself. I had time to let my mind wander.
I had plenty of time, because it takes a number of scrapes to completely free hardwood of a half-century-old flooring.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
Back and forth. Six-inches at a time of continuous motion. Inch by inch. Foot by foot.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. For some reason the term ‘Chinese Water Torture? comes to mind.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
Did you know one square foot equals 144 inches. For some reason that factoid was in my head — probably left over from some long ago math class. As I scraped, I calculated that 100-square-feet would equal 14,400-square-inches. And, since I had to scrape over an area four or five times to clear it, I probably would scrape over 10,000 times before I finished. (Since I didn’t have a calculator handy, I rounded in my head. Now that I am typing, and the calculator is to my left, I see I actually could have scraped 12,000 times: 14,400-inches divided by six-inches equals 2,400 scrapes multiplied by five equals 12,000).
This wasn’t a great thing to think about at the start of such a project. Don’t believe the person who says, ‘Scraping can be so much more enjoyable when you know the count.? It’s a lie.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Only 9,997 scrapes to go. Yeah! About the only other thing more fun is watching paint dry while singing 99 Bottles Of Beer On The Wall over and over, 101 times. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. 9,994.
As it often does, my mind soon wandered.
Are there really Bigfeet? Is the plural for Sasquatch, Sasquatchi? Since childhood, I’ve pondered about the existence of the Wildman of the Woods — which is what Sasquatch means in some Native American tongue. Could he be? What do girl BigFeet look like? How could so many ‘sightings? be wrong?
One of my oldest recollections of the mythical man-ape was the ink (blue, as in Bic ball-point pen) drawing done in the eighth grade by buddy Tom Roberts for his riveting work of fiction, BIGFOOT! And, while Tom’s big-blue-bigfoot had pointed teeth and was getting ready to throw a log at some unsuspecting camper, I always thought BigFeet were probably just misunderstood. (By the way, Tom and his family now live in Ortonville. I’m sure he still has that story around somewhere and would love to share it. Oh, I just thought of this: When Tom grew up, he became a draftsman.)
Naughty or nice, I guess I believed in them — or didn’t disbelieve in BigFeet. Come on, I reckoned, in the earlier parts of the 1900s scientists discovered a dino-fish called Coelacanth (1938), and another found the only known living relative of the giraffe, the okapi (1901).
I started to think about the hairy biped because just last week a scientist in Canada DNA tested a suspected clump of Sasquatch hair. Cryptozoologists (those who study any unknown living animal currently not recognized in any international zoological catalogues) around the world were waiting (dare I say, with bated breath) the test’s outcome.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. 9,991 to go.
Bison hair. Not even fresh bison hair. The stuff wildlife geneticist David Coltman tested was old, degrading bison hair. He joked, ‘The Bigfoot believers can take solace in that we can’t disprove the existence of such a creature . . . . You know, maybe Bigfoot stepped on this pile of bison hair on his way out of Teslin (the town in Canada where the tuft was discovered).?
Interestingly, BigFeet prints were found, not the hoof imprints one would expect from bison.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. 9,988.
It’s interesting, I thought, with modern technological advances, like DNA testing, all sorts of myths may soon go the way of the dinosaurs. No secrets will be left untold. There will be no more fun, scary monster stories to tell ’round the campfire. No more ‘what ifs.? No more Nessy of Lochness.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. 9,985 to go.
Or, I thought, maybe all this technology will someday prove there are men-like-apes who live all over the world. Maybe, someday, the folks who work for the BigFoot Field Research Organization (www.bfro.net), by use of the internet, will be able to triangulate all new sightings, discover a pattern and track ’em down.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. I finished on Sunday by 5 p.m. I think somewhere along the line I lost track of my thoughts, but I vaguely remember I was able to solve all the world’s problems.
Comments for the scraper/thinker Don to: dontrushmedon@charter.net