I woke up early this morning full of energy and ready for a long weekend. I have a shop behind my house where I work on cars and do other projects, so after I finished my morning chores I headed down to the shop to piddle around. When I opened the door I noticed a big chipmunk darting from the middle of the floor to some pallets I keep in the back. Now if you know me well you know that anything that closely resembles a mouse is my nemesis. I told him, “Buddy, you are going to have to find a new home.” I did not give the comment or the chipmunk another thought after that, and I started working on my mustang. I finally got my car running, so I let the top down and hopped in and sped away for a much-anticipated ride in my convertible.
A few minutes into my ride I remembered I don’t have insurance on the car, so I headed home. As I arrived, I noticed the back door was slightly open. I didn’t think anything about it until 30 minutes later.
I was frying eggs on the stove when Sandra stumbled down the hall from her slumber. I am a morning person and she is a night owl. She looked at me with this confused look and said, “there is a chipmunk in our bathroom.”
I asked her, “Are you sure?” Which was a dumb question because I live with Dr. Doolittle. She knows what a chipmunk looks like.
I told her the story about what happened in my shop that morning. I told her that I told him he was going to have to find a new house. She said back to me, “Well, it is not going to be my house!”
We sat down together and devised a strategy. She would wear the leather gloves and try to catch the beast, and if it got by her I would catch it in a small garbage can. What happened next you couldn’t have scripted better (a very funny comedy). She reached down calmly and the chipmunk darted between her legs and straight at me. Instead of putting the garbage can down on the chipmunk I squealed like a little girl and he ran right over my feet into our bedroom. Sandra said, ” What the hell, you are suppose to catch him in the garbage can.” He darted in the closet and then under the bed. That is when we knew we were in trouble.
After a few minutes of wondering how we were going to solve this dilemma, for some reason he darted back into the bathroom. My guess was he thought he could escape that way. We repeated the same process we had devised originally, and I was able to put the can down on top of him and capture the beast. Needless to say my anxiety level is pretty high as I write this morning. We slid a piece of cardboard under the garbage can and turned the can over. We walked outside and we let him go in our backyard.
The moral of the story is:
I haven’t a damn clue!!! Someone please tell me!