boom, bang, crash, swish!
I planned on sleeping in on Saturday morning. Anytime you really "plan" on sleeping in, almost always, you end up waking up early for some odd reason. This particular day, I did wake up early to a BOOM, BANG, CRASH, SWISH noise somewhere close to my apartment. I looked at the clock: 9:43. Did someone drop a dolly with boxes on it right outside my apartment door? It's probably someones move in day- precisely the day I wanted to sleep in. CRASH, SWOOSH!! What? Could that be inside of my apartment? I got up, walked toward the noise coming from the kitchen, I thought, great, my neighbor is drilling through the wall or something. As I rounded the corner, eyes scanning wildly, something, as I quickly identified as a squirrel ran just inches in front of me, and launched himself onto the bike handle bars in the corner of my apartment. hmm.
"Well, Hello there little guy." I am thinking it is going to attack because he is now cornered. Next thought, lets let him out. I went to the front door, opened it and propped the screen door open. I looked back over at him. He looked nervous, fidgety. I said, "okay little guy, go on outside..." He lept from the handlebars to the bike seat, onto the filing cabinet, up onto the top edge of the monitor, over a stack of magazines where he slid to the ground and bounced out the front door and jumped onto the banister of the balcony. He turned around and looked at me as he perched. I turned quickly to assess the kitchen. There were no windows open, no cabinets... the stove top looked a little destroyed, pan on its side, stove top burner trays all askew and dusty dirty chimney looking dirt everywhere. I looked up... ah ha. The culprit. There is a stove vent that leads to the roof. He must have fell the 10 feet down onto the stove and survived. (Thank god I was home and was able to let him out. What if it was a week ago? I was in Montana for the entire week. hmmmm.) Suddenly, I hear him barking outside. I go to the door and there he is barking in a smug way directly looking into my apartment. He acted as if he had cheated death by diving into the lion's den and made it out to see another day and now was standing his ground that he was safely outside. I told him, "what? you're the one who came into my apartment! go away." I shut the door. He jumped down from the banister and went on his merry way with a hop in his step down the stairs to meet up with his buddies to gloat about his great survival. I call him my santa claus squirrel and my niece sophie loves to hear the story!
Sometimes we launch ourselves into the lion's den and come out unscathed- thinking we are taking risks. It feels like it. We feel shocked, scared, nervous, unfamilar. But, was it really a lion's den afterall?
"Well, Hello there little guy." I am thinking it is going to attack because he is now cornered. Next thought, lets let him out. I went to the front door, opened it and propped the screen door open. I looked back over at him. He looked nervous, fidgety. I said, "okay little guy, go on outside..." He lept from the handlebars to the bike seat, onto the filing cabinet, up onto the top edge of the monitor, over a stack of magazines where he slid to the ground and bounced out the front door and jumped onto the banister of the balcony. He turned around and looked at me as he perched. I turned quickly to assess the kitchen. There were no windows open, no cabinets... the stove top looked a little destroyed, pan on its side, stove top burner trays all askew and dusty dirty chimney looking dirt everywhere. I looked up... ah ha. The culprit. There is a stove vent that leads to the roof. He must have fell the 10 feet down onto the stove and survived. (Thank god I was home and was able to let him out. What if it was a week ago? I was in Montana for the entire week. hmmmm.) Suddenly, I hear him barking outside. I go to the door and there he is barking in a smug way directly looking into my apartment. He acted as if he had cheated death by diving into the lion's den and made it out to see another day and now was standing his ground that he was safely outside. I told him, "what? you're the one who came into my apartment! go away." I shut the door. He jumped down from the banister and went on his merry way with a hop in his step down the stairs to meet up with his buddies to gloat about his great survival. I call him my santa claus squirrel and my niece sophie loves to hear the story!
Sometimes we launch ourselves into the lion's den and come out unscathed- thinking we are taking risks. It feels like it. We feel shocked, scared, nervous, unfamilar. But, was it really a lion's den afterall?
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