"Are you and I so unalike? ..."

Something came down the chimney tonight ... and I'll tell you right now, it wasn't Santa.

I HATE SQUIRRELS!!!!!!

We've lived here since early 1989, and I figure this has got to be Squirrel #Ten that has fallen down the Chimney o' Doom. At least. And of those, eight have fallen down while Jimmy was far away in some other state or country. After the last one, I was under the impression that the chimney had been capped with an impenetrable barrier. I was mistaken. Miss Maggie Belle has been on guard in front of the hearth since early this evening, when the first scratchings and rumblings were heard. Well, I say that ... knowing that it must have made a hell of a noise as it fell ... they always do. But Frances was home alone this afternoon. And she can't hear me talking when I'm sitting right next to her.

So anyway. Grrr.

Past squirrels have fallen all the way through the damper into the fireplace. Those squirrels all escaped out the front window ... after I made barriers to the rest of the house with the furniture, removed the window screens, and shivered for hours with the windows wide open. This squirrel is holed up above the damper, and is refusing to come any further. I guess tomorrow I will call one of three "wildlife experts" in the phone book. Like I don't have anything better to do.

The last thing I need is to have wall-to-wall people at Christmas, all enjoying the odor of dead squirrel wafting through the house.

Let's put the house on the market. Please?

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Grandma F was napping with her head in her own lap, sitting on the sofa, when I arrived to visit today. It looked a bit uncomfy. I changed her sheets, cleaned up a plant that had fallen to the floor, washed dishes, and found a place for her tiny Christmas tree. She told me how to keep merengue (sp?) from falling, and we discussed, once again, how overworked all those Shady Acres helpers are.

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From the comments: "Who the hell is Ron White???"

Kay, I know you've been without a computer for months, but have you forgotten a sweet little thing called Google? If you Google "Ron White", you can learn all about him.

They call him "Tater Salad".

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Yesterday, I was forced at gunpoint to watch an hour of QVC, so I could "pick out the purse I want for Christmas." Sigh. Y'all, I don't want a purse from QVC. Earlier, she had just told me to go shopping for one on my own ... the idea of which, at this time of year, made me want to scream. But then she discovered that QVC was showing an hour of purses ... Maxx Handbags, or some such crock ... "And those are really NICE bags, you know." Dutiful daughter that I am, I picked the least ugly bag they showed. Now I get to wrap it when it gets here, and then give a happy smile when I open it on Christmas morning. Sigh, again.

After she had called in the order, she looked over at me and said, "Are you SURE that's what you wanted?" At this point, a sane person would say, "Well since you asked, no. I really don't know if I will ever use it. I just picked one to help you get your Christmas shopping done without you having to put any real effort into it."

But Mama raised me to be "sweet", and never ever say anything negative to anyone ... except your husband, of course. She modeled it well. And I wonder if I'm ever gonna break free.

Shoot, I'm headed to hell with my attitude. I guess I'll go eat worms.