I just noted that I have 41 posts in this ‘blog’s Drafts folder!
For those, like me, who just whispered, “O thank God!” I’m sure He is saying, “You’re welcome” (too).
This accounts for just one of those that were cached, but for some reason, I had decided not to bog you down with my thoughts on the New England Patriots! I’ll be deleting the other 40 almost-posts as well, when I get my will to live back a little more (when it stops snowing all over my car).
I must tell you, though, that I had another facedown with a squirrel prior to this latest beast of a storm, who was picking away at our repair job out at the dormer gap, trying to get back in to the warmth and fun that this household apparently is.
He or she did not bank on me hanging out of grandson’s window bodily, yelling and flailing my arms. I did not bank on Squirrel just staring up at me while he hung on to the side of my house, wondering if I was anything dangerous.
What an insult.
I dashed downstairs for the bottle of apple cider vinegar. If there’s anything on earth that can stand that smell, I’ll be surprised, but I read that squirrels hate strong smells, so, voila!
Indeed, once again, there’s a dearth of wolf urine in this abode. I’d long ago read that in lieu of that magic potion, one could protect one’s gifted rose bush by sprinkling human hair around it. I also didn’t have human hair on hand that Spring, but I did have a worn denim jacket. Well, wth, it was worth a try.
(It didn’t work.)
By the time I got back upstairs (yes, I’d closed the window first!!), Squirrel was gone. I liberally doused the repair spot from above with enough acv to choke an eye-sea-ee agent. Son got up there a couple of hours later on a ladder and said the distinctive odor was still q u I t e strong, so, 👍. There have been no repeat events. Move over, wolf urine!
Listen, when they say, “Still waters run deep,” believe it. (Or, if you’re a squirrel, at least take lunatics seriously. Some ignorings are just too embarrassing.)
❤️
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Under the mask.. 