I had 2 piles of laundry, a jar of almonds in the shell, and one squirrel to my name today (plus a condo, a car, and a mini food processor [which works swell for making fresh tomatoe sauce]).

I wanted to mix as much of these things together as I could all in one sitting because I've been feeling the pressure of a mental check-off list all week. So here we go, one squirrel crawling all over me, little pile of almonds on the carpet where I was sitting, and Mt. Clotheverest. Add a dash of Rear Window into the mix and you have my typical Monday night.

Truthfully, there's nothing worse than a squirrel getting overly excited over the prospect of too many hiding places. It's like ... giving my dad a Milton Berle joke book. Their little minds just can't handle that much joy. (Mostly I'm talking about the squirrel.)

Soon nuts are just dropped all over the place instead of buried because there are so many nooks and crannies in a laundry pile, even the squirrel knows a treasure will fall into a crevice. But then comes that little streak of independence. Perhaps life ON the pile would be better after all. But NO! "I will be found out and my heating element (ie: H) will run off to puree more tomatoes without me!"

Like I said, there's nothing worse than a squirrel getting overly excited. SMACK, right into the jugular. Here's the sloppiness and lack of consideration at work. Sometimes, I think squirrels forget their place and start acting like animals.

Admittedly, I can't get too upset when a little greying squirrel face pops out of a tube sock and wants to makes sure I'm still nearby. Have you ever seen static whiskers? Well, lemme just tell ya, it's a hoot.