Ah, yes. So here I am continuing the new tradition of a blog a month. Frankly, it's a sucky tradition and it needs to change. And it will. Soon. But, babies, such a tale have I to tell!
(No, I did not drive through the garage door. I didn't, okay? Give me some credit. And no, I did NOT have another work computer monitor almost spontaneously combust on me again. Oh. I've not told you that story? Never mind, then. It was nothing. Really. coughilovemynewflatscreenmonitorthoughcough)
Anyway, on to the tale. Do you have someone to snuggle? A good blankie and piece of comfort knitting ready for the scariest parts? Perfect. Then let us begin.
The Harlot's been talking about them for years. You know who I mean. Those fiber-stealing felons who make off with freshly-washed fleece.
Those squirrels. The plotters.
Well, the little suckers decided to kick it up a notch in my case. Not content to sit about and hope that I would eventually get round to washing fleeces and laying them out to dry, they instead planned the ultimate Home Invasion.
The little blighter who volunteered for the mission came down the chimney a la Tom Cruise, no doubt doing spins and twirls that would make a ballet dancer proud. I fear my hope that it whacked its little head a million times on a tumbling trip down is all in vain.
I know this because its wee iPod was playing the theme music from Mission Impossible. I thought I had dreamed the music when I awoke in the dead of night, but clearly it was real. Beside, we found its little harness and pulley contraption dangling in the chimney after the horror had ended, and a tiny helmet underneath the wood. It was prepared, damn it.
I walked out in the morning, unaware that it had tossed all the wood in the fake fireplace hither and yon. I also failed to notice that the fireplace's glass door had been skillfully jimmied open just a tad.
I did, however, notice that the curtain and rod which hang over the small window behind the TV were knocked askew. (Remember that window? I sure do.) I was puzzled by that, but as I was running close to being almost-but-not-quite-late, I simply rehung the curtain and left.
My only excuse for such somnolent behavior, such blatant disregard for the massively glaring signs of badness approaching was that I had to have been subjected to some kind of gas that fogged my thinking. Probably something made from fermented acorn mash. (Did I mention the tiny spray bottle we also found? I didn't? How did I neglect that?)
Any idea what a grey squirrel, when left alone in a house for eight hours, gets up to?
A freakin' lot. That's what. A howling group of sugar-crazed preschoolers intent on scattering every toy in the house had nothing on this guy.
(I could have taken pictures, but quite frankly, I'm trying to erase the images from my mind. It's not working, mind you, but I am trying.)
Lamps were overturned. Books tossed. Magazines scattered. (I think it tried a taste-test lick on several pages of Spin-Off.) The clean dishes had paw prints on them and the apples on the counter had been seriously terrorized. It took time to play several games and then neglected to put up the pieces. Woodwork had chew marks galore. Anything that could be made a mess of was.
Anything, that is, EXCEPT the yarn. Yes, I know. You've been clutching your comfort knitting so tightly you bent your metal needles, terrified of what had befallen the stash. But be of good heart. All is well.
I have the yarn stored in tins on a high shelf. But after viewing the rest of the house, I've no doubt that that presented little obstacle. They knew what they were about when they sent their lone rodent in.
I also know how well they planned because my ever-brave Thing 2 caught the rodent in the act. She strolled into my room just as it was getting ready to shoot its little grappling hook up onto the shelf.
It was that close.
Instead of a quick zip up a nylon rope, it reverted to "look I'm a cute woodland creature" behavior and made a dash across her feet into the enclosed porch, where, unfortunately, all the book boxes are stored, not to mention the games and crafts cabinet. It had been there before, as I have mentioned, and clearly thought it an excellent place to hide.
With great presence of mind, Thing 2 shut the door behind it, trapping it. The Things conferred, then opened the door just a bit and rolled the last untouched apple into the room after it. They watched as it pounced on the poor apple from above, clearly worried that it only had .5 seconds to pull the right seeds out and deactivate the cleverly concealed bomb. Satisfied it had secured the area, it retreated.
Wanna know the mood of a secret agent squirrel after it's been trapped for an hour? Bit shirty, to say the least.
And did you know that a squirrel, after being subjected to routing from hiding places in an effort to get it out the porch door which leads to freedom, will obstinately hide behind a curtain and growl really, really loudly?
Like, really loudly.
Eventually, we left the apple near the open door and tiptoed away. And the agent, accepting defeat, vanished into the night, dragging its apple-bomb behind it as proof of its ordeal. Or maybe as a palliative to the rest of the squad for the loss of all that G. I Joe gear. Think of the hand-to-paw combat they had to go through to score that. I mean, seriously.
When faced with that much destruction to clean up, I did the only sensible thing.
One very UFO double knit scarf has reached the proper length.
The train in being duplicate stitched on. New matching mittens (with trains, of course) to follow, as Thing 4 says the other mittens are getting tight. I'll be using this pattern (Rav link). (And I'll be twisting all the knit and purl stitches on purpose! Knitting wrongly deliberately! My favorite!)
And I'll be vigilant. Because you know how they are...
I see what you’re doing - Dear Socks I don’t know what crap you think you’re pulling, or if you think you’re messing with an amateur or something, but let me tell you. I’m no rookie...
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