As I opened the door to the attic I released my customary squirrel
repelling howl before charging up the stairs only to be greeted not by one squirrel. No, no, not two squirrels. Yes, yes, three squirrels. Three bushy tails waving like three enoromous middle fingers pointed directly at me. Oh, and did I mention that one them was holding onto one of my brand new Carlos Santana stillettos and chewing on the heel like it was a churro? He even spat a piece of the leather out onto the floor in disdain as if he's used to dining on Manolo's.
Now, I know you've called repairmen in to find the place in the roof where they're coming in, and I know that each handyman deemed the job too small to undertake. And I admire your attempts to remedy the problem on your own given that you only have a lifetime of experience in construction. I even applauded you when you said, "Problem solved." Perhaps you were talking about your aching bunions and not the squirrels in the attic? My bad.
I know that this is a sensitive topic since I went all harey-carey on you two weeks ago when I went up to the attic to my hermetically sealed Container Store garment bags to bring down my fall clothes only to find that the squirrels had chewed through the bags and ate the sleeves of almost all of my blouses, blazers, and coats. Yes, they have expensive taste--they ate only through the Michael Kors leather, Calvin Klein suede, and Ralph Lauren blouses. Really, really, I'm sorry if you think that my throwing wire hangers at you was too Mommy Dearest for you, but frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. I told you repeatedly that I was sorry. Sorry I missed.
Since you're not fond of confrontation, I'm writing to inform you that even though you promised me that you really did fix the problem this time I don't know what problem it is that you think you fixed, but the squirrels are back and man, those furry bastards have some balls. Which is more than I'll be able to say for you if you don't get rid of them!!!!