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03 07 00
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So I was on the phone with my mother this morning. (Yes, I got up at a reasonable hour, but I had motivation this time. The water to my apartment complex was getting shut off for most of the day and I wanted to take a shower and put in a contacts and, you know, pee and stuff before that happened.) I'd called her to discuss various ideas regarding the reception and food and other things that had been floating around in my mind. While I was talking to her, she kept telling me to "hang on a minute." Then she'd come back and tell me it sounded like there was someone in the house. This happened four or five times in the span of a twenty-minute discussion. Now, my mother is prone to hearing things. She has a hearing aid, and sometimes she hears things that no one else does... Things that just aren't there. Finally she said that she definitely heard something. "It sounds like there's someone walking around in the bedroom, but every time I look I can't see anyone," she said. "Maybe it's a burglar, " I said. "He wants to steal all your sheets and underwear. Maybe it's the panty thief." And just as those words left my lips, my mother screamed. Loud. Chillingly. Blood-curdlingly. "What?" I yelled into the phone. I had a sudden image of a headline: Woman murdered while on the phone with her daughter. Silence. I could hear her breathing, so she was still alive. But I didn't know what was happening. Why don't we have video phones yet, tech people? We were promised them years ago! I kept saying "What?" I must have said it five times before my mother finally answered me. "There's a ... a... squirrel in my bedroom!" she wailed. I couldn't help it. I started laughing. She wasn't going to get murdered, unless the rodent was packing heat. Squirrels are a big problem in this city. We have two kinds: the nice, indigenous gray squirrels, and evil Canadian black squirrels that were imported years ago and which are now taking over the city. A few years ago, a squirrel fell down my parent's chimney. We called animal control, but they couldn't help us. We called an exterminator, but they wanted some outrageous amount to get rid of the squirrel. So my dad made the spendthrift decision to leave the squirrel in the fireplace until it died - which took about 10 days. It was weird, watching TV and being able to see the squirrel moving around behind the glass doors of the fireplace. (He preferred to watch Animal Planet.) Anyway, I couldn't stop laughing. "It's not funny," my mother whined. "How am I going to get rid of it?" "How did it get in there?" I asked. "I don't care how it got in here, I just want it to leave!" she cried. "Come over here and help me get rid of it!" Ah, yes. My mother, a woman who burned her bra in the 60s, wanted help to remove a rodent from her residence. When I arrived about ten minutes later I saw Min's car in the driveway. I started laughing again. I could imagine the phone call; "Min, get over here and help me get this squirrel out of my bedroom!" My parents' bedroom is upstairs. The entire second floor can be shut off from the rest of the house, and it is a small, complete suite with a bedroom, living room, bathroom and kitchenette. My parents use the living room for a computer room/study. By the time I got up there, the squirrel had moved from the bedroom to the living room, and was hiding behind my mother's art desk. Min was laughing as well. "I have stuff to do! Let's get this show on the road," she said. I tried to see the squirrel, but it was cowering behind a stack of portfolios. I stomped on the floor several times, and the little black squirrel dashed into the room. We screamed. The squirrel ran over to the bookcase. We screamed. He jumped onto a shelf. We screamed. He jumped onto my dad's desk. We screamed. He dashed back under the desk. "Well, that was productive," Min said. "Hmm," I added. My mother went downstairs and returned with a stack of laundry baskets. The idea was to create a path for the squirrel from the desk to the stairs. After some argument we got the baskets arranged into a narrow tunnel, using chairs and other things to block any possible exits. We shut the doors at the bottom of the stairs and opened the front door, so the only place he could go was out. Of course, once we built this tunnel the squirrel wouldn't move. I tried stomping on the floor again, but he was wise to that now. "Stick your hand down there and flush him out," I told my sister. "You stick your hand down there and flush him out," she replied. I found a T-square and started poking around behind the portfolios. The squirrel jumped up onto the desk, and I found myself face to face with terrified squirrel. He faked left; he faked right; he bolted back under the desk. Min sighed. "Don't they have people who deal with this stuff?" "Flush him out again," my mom said. "I can't," I said. "When I get him to come out, he sees me standing there and runs to hide again." At this point Min picked up the phonebook to look for the number for animal control. "We tried that when the squirrel fell down the chimney," my mother said. She looked around he bedroom forlornly. "This place was clean. It was clean! Now look at it! I can't have people over if the house looks like this." Only my mother would worry what animal control would think of her housekeeping. "Here it is," Min said. "Animal control: dogs only." "What are you supposed to do if it's not a dog?" I asked. "This county has animals other than dogs."
"It's a squirrel, not a fish," my mom said. "Yeah, but it's a wildlife," said Min. Meanwhile, the squirrel was still behind the desk. "I think I'll call the police," Min said. I laughed. "What are they going to do, arrest it for trespassing?" But we agreed that it was a good idea; this town has lots of squirrels and lots of squirrel-related problems. Maybe they could tell us who could help. About this time, I took it into my head to move a cart by the desk. I wanted to see if I could see where the squirrel was hiding. Although my sister is the one who called the police (yes, we used to non-emergency number, although this was definitely an emergency to my mom), she gave me a quick recap of what happened while she was on the phone.
Police: City Police, how can I- When I moved the cart, the squirrel bolted. I didn't even see it, it moved so fast. It ran through the tunnel we'd created and down the stairs. I ran to the top of the stairs in time to see it booking out the front door. Of course, my mother had to stand in the front doorway and yell at the squirrel (who by this time was across the street and in a tree). "Don't come back!" "Hey!" I yelled down at her. "Don't stand there yelling at the squirrel! Close the damn door so it doesn't get back in!" grin We still don't know how it got in. The next time my mother has a squirrel in her bedroom, I'll just tell her to call the police. Sheesh.
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Looking Back On this date in 1979, Voyager 1 reaches Jupiter. I can still remember the spectacular images that were sent back; I think that's what really got me interested in astronomy.
______ of the Day Today's animal is NOT the squirrel.
Skimming I was really insulted by something in one of these bridal planning books. The book quotes a "young professional" woman: "Now listen, I don't want any of those silly traditions, like throwing the garter belt and stuff."The very next sentence is: "People do and say funny things when they're excited and under stress." Uh, what? I'm not going to be doing that silly garter thing... It's barbaric and stupid and embarresing. Never once have I seen it written that certain things must occur at a wedding. So shove it up your collective asses, Modern Bride. Perhaps you should remove the "modern" from your name.
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"How about Fish and Wildlife?" she asked.
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