tobermory's Diaryland Diary


Fuzzy grey matter

Dear Mr. or Ms. Squirrel:

I can understand that the remaining tomatoes on my rapidly dying plants look rather luscious – I think so too, and really, I don’t mind sharing. It would, however, be nice if you could please carefully choose one tomato (per day) and completely eat it as opposed to taking sample bites out of every tomato that shows even a blush of redness before settling on your One True Tomato. By doing this it will ultimately leave more tomatoes for us all. It would also be nice if you would then take your One True Tomato and depart with it to eat it at your leisure in your own nesty abode. The small table between my two lawn chairs is not, in my opinion (although apparently in yours, it is), the ideal place for your repast. Not only have you left a mess of the rotting remains of several One True Tomatoes but you also seem to have left a few small turdlets. Allow me to remind you of the popular human maxim, “do not shit where you eat.” I know that it often gets used in other contexts but in this case you can take it at face value.

In looking at the situation from your point of view I realize that you may have become irritated with my recent absence as I was no longer around to provide you with the diversionary peanuts that have heretofore kept you disinterested in my tomatoes but I confess the peanut party was set to end with the last bag anyway. Someone who shall not be named, but for conversations sake you can think of him as a husbandly type person, became highly concerned at the fact that he could not leave the back door open for longer than 10 seconds without the appearance of your bushy tail and chipper demeanor (and also your two other squirrelly friends) gracing our back stoop and edging ever closer to our interior back staircase which would put you, oh, I dunno, IN MY HOUSE. Now don’t get me wrong. I think you’re cute as all get out and I enjoyed feeding you the peanuts but I can only imagine the mutual freakout that would occur when you realized that you were trapped in my house and I in turn realized that a small, wild animal (sorry, but it’s true) was scurrying madly about my home trying to find egress and in the process scrabbling amongst my possessions and perhaps my person. We need not even mention the ugliness of what would happen if your teeth became involved although I have heard rumors that for me it would involve many, many courses of injections in my abdomen and for you imminent beheading and checking your now exposed brain matter for signs of rabies. No one wants our relationship to end this way.

So, while I have not yet given my squirrel-hating neighbor (yes, there are people like that out there) license to begin target practice with his BB-gun, it is a plan under consideration should you continue with your cheeky behavior. Just kidding, I would never stoop that low but I will borrow their yappy dog and install it in my yard to keep you at bay. I leave you with this thought for your consideration, stay out of my yard.

The Former Peanut Lady

Breakfast: frosted mini-fiber bombs
Snack: plum
Lunch: WW Smart Ones Three-cheese Ziti marinara, apple.
Dinner: back to the Buddig sandwich and cottage cheese snack packs.
Exercise: it’s personal trainer night, so an hour of strength work preceded by a half hour on the elliptical. I’m kind of dreading it because my trainer is the other (nice) half of the Boot Camp instructor team. I know she’s going to ask me how Wednesday went and it’s going to take every ounce of self-control I have not to repeat yesterday’s rant about her partner, Assy O’Shoutsalot.

3:22 p.m. - 2007-09-13


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