Here at the beach house-not-on-the-beach this week, I have tried to give my nerves a rest from worrying about the damnsquirrels at home. I’m sure they emptied the bird feeders and chalked nasty notes on the driveway as soon as I drove away. They’re probably digging up my flower beds and eating all my bulbs, but I won’t think about that. Deep breaths….
Not that we’re squirrel-free here, but since they had already stripped the peach tree, the fig tree, and our lone tomato plant before I arrived, there was nothing left for them to do to cause further aggravation. I dismissed them from my thoughts. Breathe in…breathe out….
There was one incident. Just close your eyes, Girl. Keep breathing.
Dearly Beloved was reading a book and enjoying a glass of wine on the patio this weekend, a shady spot under the hickory tree. The poor guy had to hold his hand over the glass to keep the Hickory nuts from “falling” into his wine.
Falling, my ass! I heard one squirrel yell, “10 points!” And we’re breathing, and we’re breathing….
For those of you who keep insisting that they’re “cute,” I offer one more piece of evidence. Take a look at this picture that my Indianapolis daughter sent this morning. Note the half-eaten tomato.
I rest my case. Pass the wine.
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