I awoke at 1:20 a.m. to the sound of two possums apparently raping each other.

They prefer to do it on the tin roofs that grace the homes in Brisbane.

It’s not like cats in Kansas, it’s louder and sounds more violent.

But they’re so cute.

A helicopter sounded like it was investigating the possum-love and about to land on the roof; then a train went by; then another helicopter.

My semi-toilet-friendly daughter interrupted another night of Blade-Runner lite with an exceedingly wet bed.

I did laundry; at 3 a.m.

The Queenslander style of house favored by Brisbanites is on wooden stilts (because the river has a 100-year flood every 30 years) with a large balcony to capture cool breezes. Washing machines and clotheslines are on the balcony.

So are possums.

The possums piss and crap everywhere, every night, and are fearless: they will run into the house if the balcony door and several windows are not strategically closed.

Anyone know of zoonotic possum diseases I should be concerned about?