You Just Never Know What the day Will Bring, but it Will be Good
In mulling over a theme for this blog, I failed to think of a thing until yesterday morning, when at 10:30 AM, Elmer sat in his over-stuffed recliner, eating a fried egg, beef pastrami, double onion, iceberg lettuce and a daub of yellow mustard sandwich, watching an old western on TV and drinking a diet squirt; that was it! Life is good for Elmer.
The theme carried into the same afternoon. I was sweeping dirt, dead leaves, dropped sunflower seeds and cob webs out of the shed, when rushing feet ran in the open door! I turned in time to see a squirrel hit the door frame and dash upwards, Katy Lou on its tail, missing by a fraction. In a blink, the squirrel scrambled up the wall and hid on a two-by-four above the window, trying to conceal its self behind some wire fencing I had hung on a nail, making its self as small as possible. I guided overwrought Katy out the door with the broom and put her in the house. Life is good for Katy Lou. She almost had that dang squirrel.
I left the shed door open, hoping the squirrel would decide all was safe and would climb down and scamper away. But no, it hid, not moving, not making a sound, playing possum to the ninth degree. Still was there at four-thirty in the afternoon. Elmer told me that it could not stay in the shed. So armed with a broom, I removed the fencing and very carefully brushed the two-by-four with the broom. The squirrel panicked, jumped to the rafters, ran to the end of the shed, and scaled the rough lumber to the peak. Now what? My broom was no longer long enough. I scanned the many rakes, shovels, hoes and tools until I spied the long handled saw that Elmer used to cut dead limbs from the maples out front. Long enough. The poor squirrel clung on for dear life to the side of a two-by-four at the highest point of the peak. I tapped the curved saw blade next to it and it crawled downward, eyeballing me same as I was eyeballing it. Then the squirrel dropped, Ka-whap right by my toes, jumped up, shot out the door, torpedoed toward the potentilla bush, missed the back steps, streaked across the patio and disappeared north. Life is good for the not dead squirrel and life is good for me. I can still deal with what needs to be done. Kinda.
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