I don’t know if you have heard but the land that my house sits on is special. I’m not even sure how the builder was allowed to put a dwelling on that spot of land back in 1960. There seems to be some kind aura pulsating from the ground. And that aura attracts squirrels. It attracts them by the hundreds. No. Thousands. No! Millions!
FYI ... I'm not Snow White. They are driving me nuts. (Oh, did you see what I just did?! I said “nuts”. I’m talking about squirrels and I used the word nuts. I’m so clever.) They dig in my yard and plant evil seeds that sprout cruel plants. These cruel plants then require me to break my back every weekend pulling them out of my yard. And the squirrels sit back on a tree limb, grab a bucket of popcorn, and point and laugh at me for their amusement.
The squirrels also like to have their version of the Kentucky Derby on my roof. I don’t know where they found the squirrel equivalent of Jabba the Hutt and got that chucky fat butt to run around on my roof at 6am but I’m pretty sure he’s racing against the Fat Albert squirrel. I can’t tell who comes in first but I want a cut of the winnings because one of these days a fat squirrel is going to fall through my roof.
If you think squirrels are adorable, then you have issues. If you think squirrels are tasty, then you are welcome to come over to my house at any time. Bring your own trap.