We interrupt this meditation with a message from the squirrels.

Cute little motherf*cker, isn't he?

Note: If you are offended by the F-word, or by expletives in general, please put on your big girl panties now, or cease and desist with the reading of this post. Thank you! xo

So it's been awhile since I've shared any deep or shallow thoughts via my blog. Not to make excuses, but I remember exactly what happened: It was early February, I was ready to pen a new post about squirrels, and just like that, my cat threw up on my keyboard. And so, after a few expletives and after trying ridiculous things to bring my laptop back to life and then interpreting the event as the Divine's

not-so-subtle way of telling me to lay off the laptop and utilize my deceased son's vintage typewriter

for all future written endeavors, I gave up and went to the Apple store and paid a considerably large sum of money to have it repaired.

Then, when I finally got it back from the Apple store, I sent my adorably-fluffy-spawn-of-Satan

cat an invoice.

"That organic-grain-free chicken and shrimp dinner she lovingly fed me just isn't

sitting well with me. She should know after 17 years that I prefer duck.

Let's see...what would be convenient to throw up on?"

So I never wrote the post about the squirrels. And it's a shame, because it was going to be pretty

fantastic. I've quite honestly lost some of my original squirrel mojo, but something happened this

evening that was a definite sign from above. I was sitting at my desk, meditating (as one does when

one is as uber-spiritual as me and also holds a master's degree in procrastination), when suddenly in the peace and stillness, my fleeting connection to the secrets of the Universe was interrupted by the sound of squirrels.

Not squirrels outside, where they belong, but squirrels having a party in the walls of my house.

Originally, the party was held a few days a week in the garage, just off the kitchen. But they have definitely moved the party to a new location. It sounds like they're sawing some boards in there and building a squirrel palace. Possibly with a large deck and jacuzzi.

If this were my home...I mean, were I in possession of the deed to this house, I'd be quite upset

about the whole situation. But I'm leasing this house (thank God!) and since the squirrels have never made their way into the actual interior living spaces of the house (again, thank God!), and spring is almost here and they'll be moving back into their tree houses, or wherever squirrels live when not invading people's homes...I'm not upset about the situation. I won't be here that long anyway. I can leave. And the squirrels can stay, because this place is not big enough for all of us.

This past fall, when I first realized there were squirrel parties going on in the attached garage, and before ranting to my landlord, I went online to find information. I Googled things like, "squirrels in the garage" and "how to get rid of squirrels" and "can squirrels eat through a two-inch-thick-two-hundred- year-old wooden door."

I uncovered a plethora of information and blog posts and advice pertaining to squirrel home invasions, as you might imagine if you've ever lived outside of a city and had issues with rodents other than rats. By far my favorite was the one I'm sharing with you below. It made me laugh for days and days. In fact it's still making me laugh. Right now. As I'm writing this. (Apologies in advance for the type being a bit fuzzy, but it was a screen shot and not very good quality when enlarged!)

Bon Appetit!

And if that's not entertaining enough, here's the wrap-up of his rant (skipped the middle part, which wasn't nearly as entertaining as the beginning and end, as is true with many other things in life):

My takeaway from all of this? Thank God, the Universe, the Divine...thank whomever is in charge

of the craziness of this world and its inhabitants for imbuing a good number of us with a stellar sense of humor.

I'm thankful every day for people like this squirrel guy.

And if you have any of those motherf*ckers partying in your garage...and they've failed to even have the courtesy to invite you to join them for a drink, you have my permission to do the Elmer Fudd thing. After you've tried the humane-society-approved squirrel traps, of course. :)

Buona Notte, Darling! Sweetest of rodent-free dreams.


*As always, thank you for inviting my words into your life, and please share the love, support and

laughter with wild abandon. Because sharing is caring, darling! xo

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