The Prayers of the Righteous

First, thank y’all for commenting on my last post. She brought her grades up…but not enough to stay in Jr. Beta Club. She has As and Bs, but not a 90 average overall. We talked about it, and I emphasized that she is the only one responsible for her grades. We can help her, prod her, nag her, but she’s the one who has to put the work in. I think getting kicked out of Beta Club might – might – have been a bit of a wake up call. I continue to stay prayerful that the next few years are kind to us.

So, I don’t know about y’all. But there are times when I have found myself saying things I NEVER thought I would. And my prayer last night was one of those times.

Smoochy was getting ready to go to work and I was out in the garage kinda straightening up and hula hooping (don’t ask). Well, Smoochy comes out, opens his garage door and peers up at the house. So I ask what he’s looking at. “Oh, there’s a squirrel trying to get in the house.” Um. Sir. I need you to not be so casual about this.

I. Am. Terrified. Of. Rodents. And squirrels? They’re rodents. People give them a pass because they have “cute” bushy little tails. But to me? They’re just fancy rats.

We have a Tudor style house. So it’s got these big plaster (?) panels on the front, trimmed out in wood. Well, the stupid squirrels have tried to get in before. And by try, I mean those jokers pried up a panel, ate through the insulation and bored a small hole into the wall…right next to LG’s bed. Be still my heart. Smoochy and his friend got up there, nailed the board back down, patched the hole on the inside wall and swore all was well. And it was. Until it wasn’t. Yesterday. This stupid rat is trying his (I refuse to believe a female would be so rude!) best to get in the house.

So I did what any grown woman would do. I started crying. Smoochy assures me that by the time I get home today he and his friend will have it all fixed – they are going to add a sheet of metal to help ensure the stupid rat can’t get in and he’s going to have someone come out and trim the trees back in the hopes that it impedes the pests.

So last night I found myself uttering the following – and meaning it with all my heart – “Dear God. Please keep that squirrel and his friends out of my house.”

Life. It comes at you fast.

Oh. If you have any horror stories to tell about squirrels?  Please keep them to yourself. Thank you 🙂