With all of this talk lately about new astrological signs I’ve decided that there needs to be a new astrological sign that uses a squirrel to identify it – and that sign would belong to me. I am willing to give up my status as a Scorpio to be identified with my true sign of the Squirrel. I have had my share, actually more than my share, of squirrel related adventures or challenges and now I am having yet another.
While trying to enjoy my first cup of coffee on a quiet Sunday morning I heard an odd sound coming from the upstairs. The boys were still sleeping and Ray isn’t home…so who could be making that scraping sound upstairs?? Is it a scraping or a shuffling? Hmmm…
I went to check it out (nervously) and wandered into the kids’ playroom where the noise was coming from – it felt like a bad movie “don’t go in there!!” (They always go in there though, don’t they?) But upon closer inspection, with nothing jumping out at me, I could hear the noise coming from the ceiling in the playroom. A grinding, scuffling, gnawing noise…ugh!! Squirrels.
Are they inside the attic? Or just on the roof? Should I try to sneak out and look? If they hear the garage door open they will surely scatter and find their hiding places to wait me out…because they are sneaky and tricky like that, the horrible little monsters. Should I look up in the attic myself? (no way – that’s just asking for trouble!)
So, I went back downstairs to sip my coffee and decided to call somebody…on Monday. But I didn’t, I waited and realized that it wasn’t bothering anyone so it could wait until Spring.
This past week, on Thursday I believe it was, I was doing my tidying around the house and putting the kids’ toys away when I went into the upstairs playroom.
O…M…G!!! The stench was unbelievable!!
Not a “did somebody die in here?!” kind of stench, no. This was a “who let the cat pee in here?! …and when did we even get a cat?!” stench.
I quickly scanned the room with my bionic eyes that can detect where a smell is coming from (yes, it’s true, you’re given that enhanced sense when you become a mother. That and the ability to survive on two hours of sleep a night for approximately four years, use a glue gun like Martha Stewart, and dispose of chewed up gum from a toddler by simply popping it into your own mouth without wanting to throw up. Anyway…) Alas, I could not find the offending odor or spot from which it was wafting and realized that it must be coming from overhead. The squirrels!! They’re using our attic as a litter box now. UGH!!
Did I make that call finally? Yes. Even without discussing it with my husband, or my children or any other living thing. It was a decision that had to be made, and quick.
So now I wait…and wait…for the pest control guy to show up and figure out how to evict this crazed vermin from our home. Good luck to the man that they send because that attic space is almost completely inaccessible unless you are a pygmy midget with contortionist abilities. This I gotta see. But I suppose, in the end, there will be cutting into drywall above our heads and yet another project to be done in our new dwelling that I am named foreman of the progress.
Mark my words: from this day forward all bets are off. If a squirrel tries to cross the street while I am motoring down the same street in my mini-van I refuse to even try to swerve. I’ve been nice, and I’ve been forgiving, but peeing in my home changes all of that!
War has been declared…and I take no prisoners.