Possums, Omens and a Finger?

I was sitting on my balcony while enjoying a glass of wine tonight, as I have been for the past few days despite the recent onslaught of arctic tundra-esque temperatures, when I heard a rustling on the side/roof of the house.  I live on the third floor, so I my mind automatically moves to three different options of what the noise could be:

1. Spiderman is coming to give me an upside down kiss - to which I would not complain, but apply burts bees and pucker up without question. 
2. A giant mammal that is scaling my wall and coming to attack me whilst I sip my Pinot - perhaps a bear, which would be odd in the city, but still possible.  Maybe a mutant sized raccoon who has been turned into a carnivore and thus, I should move my tasting inside or even worse the army of rats that has been living in my trash cans has congealed into one humongous mega-rat trying to take over the city one wino at a time.
Or...
3. A super sexy man with flowers or an edible arrangement coming to sweep me off my feet.

Obviously number three is not happening, so lets figure out the others.  Ok, so maybe the others may be slight exaggerations, but considering that the bottle is down to a quarter left, they all seem relatively feasible to me.  Understanding, that Spiderman is fictional and more unlikely than a bear to be on my balcony, I peer into the darkness and await what I'm sure must be impending death.

Out from the corner of the roof peers a pointy noise, shortly followed by the entire tumbling body of what must be the worlds ugliest possum.  I'm pretty sure it was a possum... either that or Gollum was brought to life and thrown from middle earth on to my balcony (nerd alert).  I swear, if I were a rodent, this would be me.  Not in terms of looks by any means, because I would obviously be the sexiest of all rodents, but in clumsiness.  I thought possums were supposed to be nimble.  Don't the spend their evenings jumping around on telephone wires and fences terrorizing small dogs and myself?  This is obviously the ugly duckling of all hideous rodents.

As it tried to regain its composure, I started trying understand the poor guy.  This, I am SURE, must have been due to the excessive amounts of wine I've consumed over the past week.  I mean really, who tries to understand a possum.  Especially one who's fur resembles the patchy, scraggly hipster beard of a 15 year old boy, who's left paw has either been cut off or is clenched in a fist so tight I better watch myself before it punches me, razor sharp teeth that are surprisingly white and its face is a mix between a rodent and like I said earlier, Gollum for Lord of the Rings.  Finally the poor, rabies infested little dude jumps to its feet and stares me down.  Trying to be as intimidating as possible, I couldn't help but to feel like Mr. T because I pitied that fool.  He started to hack something up that turned out to look like someone's class ring, a tooth or an actual finger.  With a few looks back and forth from the object to myself, a couple of awkward blinks and a look of "well that was embarrassing," Mr. Possum kamikaze'd off the balcony never to be seen again.

I'm really not sure what to make of the whole situation.  I'm feeling rather awkward and slightly amazed, to be completely honest.  I wonder if it is a sign of things to come in my life.  I can't imagine what that may be, or that it would be good.  How would a clumsy possum hacking up a finger on your porch ever be a good omen?  On that note, I am off to bed.  Best of luck possum, I hope you find your balance.