So as life gets a little crazy, (because that's what it does after you get engaged) the most important thing you can do for yourself is to get some quality sleep, mainly to even out your immense physical and mental fatigue. If you know me, you know I LOVES ME MY SLEEP. I look forward to it, especially when I'm not in one of those "let me think of everything in the universe at once" moods.
But, four days ago.... the scratching came.
It started when anything that's life alteringly AMAZING would start.
3:00am.
Monday morning.
It was raining pretty hard so I just figured it was just the pitter patter of rain drops on my air conditioner making all the fuss. You see, my AC and I have a mutual understanding; it cools me, and I don't bother it for all the noise it causes. Beautiful harmony. (I sometimes consider it my second favorite relationship come August)
I go back to sleep.
4:00 am.
The fiancé wakes up. Now we have a problem. "What's that noise?"
Distinctly tired, I mutter the only thing I could at 4:00am on Monday.
"Iiubdfiufbdjbfjdsb."
I look outside our window, and notice a tree branch with a few leaves sitting on the outside window sill. Huh. How'd that get there? From the storm? Must've been a mighty wind..
"Frank, what's that?"
I open my eyes from slits to a solid squint.
"Is that a squirrel?!"
"No honey, it's abrown paper-bag squirrel."
Confusion and anger envelope me at once. Does this squirrel, (let's call him Mr. Squirrel, 'Mr. S' for short..) think this tree branch has food on it?? Mr. S, you're drunk -- go home. I bang on the window, we have a moment, and he scurries up the fire escape to the wondrous forest that is Brooklyn.
Victory was mine.
5:00am
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Mr. S, I'm gonna give you the count of 10, to get your ugly, yella, no good keister off my property..
Hold on, is he eating the window screen to get to food??? Mr. S, I don't have the time or money for you to go all Rolling Stones and tear up the place to get your nut on a Monday morning.
I smack the window and peace was restored.
When I finally wake up at a tolerable 7:30am, the branch and a few leaves cover the corner of the sill. He massacred the bottom of our screen, so much so that it wouldn't be remotely effective keeping ALL of the bugs out. Truthfully, I like all my bugs to be outside. Inside bugs are the worst.
Fast forward to Tuesday morning.
4:00am.
Scratch, scratch... scratch.
Mr. S can't take a hint. I'm pissed. Kara's pissed. "Dude it's a leaf, go home. And by home I mean not my window sill."
I find myself waking up in thirty minute intervals smacking the window until 7:30am.
Eventually, I look at the damage done by the #1 A-hole of the week. He completely rendered the window screen useless. Also, I was so tired that I didn't notice until the morning that there were a lot more leaves than before. In fact there was some dirt, a couple of branches, what looked like half of a washcloth, and a square of window screen..which looked oddly familiar. Hm. Clearly, Mr. Squirrel wasn't trying to eat, he was making a fort... in my window. My lovely, Gandalfian, "no bugs shall pass," window.
I clean up the mess, thinking if I ruffle the fort he won't come back... take off my once effective window screen and inform my landlord of my new hatred for the outdoor rodent. (Not to be confused with my hatred of the indoor rodent, but that's a whole other story)
But, four days ago.... the scratching came.
It started when anything that's life alteringly AMAZING would start.
3:00am.
Monday morning.
It was raining pretty hard so I just figured it was just the pitter patter of rain drops on my air conditioner making all the fuss. You see, my AC and I have a mutual understanding; it cools me, and I don't bother it for all the noise it causes. Beautiful harmony. (I sometimes consider it my second favorite relationship come August)
I go back to sleep.
4:00 am.
The fiancé wakes up. Now we have a problem. "What's that noise?"
Distinctly tired, I mutter the only thing I could at 4:00am on Monday.
"Iiubdfiufbdjbfjdsb."
I look outside our window, and notice a tree branch with a few leaves sitting on the outside window sill. Huh. How'd that get there? From the storm? Must've been a mighty wind..
"Frank, what's that?"
I open my eyes from slits to a solid squint.
"Is that a squirrel?!"
"No honey, it's a
Confusion and anger envelope me at once. Does this squirrel, (let's call him Mr. Squirrel, 'Mr. S' for short..) think this tree branch has food on it?? Mr. S, you're drunk -- go home. I bang on the window, we have a moment, and he scurries up the fire escape to the wondrous forest that is Brooklyn.
Victory was mine.
5:00am
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Mr. S, I'm gonna give you the count of 10, to get your ugly, yella, no good keister off my property..
Hold on, is he eating the window screen to get to food??? Mr. S, I don't have the time or money for you to go all Rolling Stones and tear up the place to get your nut on a Monday morning.
I smack the window and peace was restored.
When I finally wake up at a tolerable 7:30am, the branch and a few leaves cover the corner of the sill. He massacred the bottom of our screen, so much so that it wouldn't be remotely effective keeping ALL of the bugs out. Truthfully, I like all my bugs to be outside. Inside bugs are the worst.
Fast forward to Tuesday morning.
4:00am.
Scratch, scratch... scratch.
Mr. S can't take a hint. I'm pissed. Kara's pissed. "Dude it's a leaf, go home. And by home I mean not my window sill."
I find myself waking up in thirty minute intervals smacking the window until 7:30am.
Eventually, I look at the damage done by the #1 A-hole of the week. He completely rendered the window screen useless. Also, I was so tired that I didn't notice until the morning that there were a lot more leaves than before. In fact there was some dirt, a couple of branches, what looked like half of a washcloth, and a square of window screen..which looked oddly familiar. Hm. Clearly, Mr. Squirrel wasn't trying to eat, he was making a fort... in my window. My lovely, Gandalfian, "no bugs shall pass," window.
I clean up the mess, thinking if I ruffle the fort he won't come back... take off my once effective window screen and inform my landlord of my new hatred for the outdoor rodent. (Not to be confused with my hatred of the indoor rodent, but that's a whole other story)
The Aftermath
Day 3. Wednesday.
7:30am.
If it's possible, I found even more crap. This time I find all of the previous building supplies, plus some sheet music, and a sock.
While playing Bob The Builders cousin, "Frank The Destroyer," a thought occurs to me.
What if Mr. Squirrel is really a Mrs. Squirrel?? What if she's nesting to unleash the next generation of squirrel? On my window.. Unacceptable! This is no delivery sill, it's Frank's no bugs, no squirrels allowed sill. Mr. or Mrs. Squirrel, please take the hint of me destroying your shit as a push in a new nest direction. Have the other squirrels in the neighborhood introduced you to Mr. Tree? He's great. Lots of income property, lots of wood finishings, I've heard he's renting some space.
Day 4. Thursday.
8:00am
No words. Just squirrel. The battle rages on.
If you or a loved one has dealt with, or knows how to deal with this variety of squirrel, leave a comment and share your experience with this novice squirrelsman and squirrelswoman.
Stay tuned!
K&F
to be continued...
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