Squirrelocity

I googled, and one of the sites that came up was Walgreens. Following that, I found that the one closest to me apparently had it in stock.

And so I found myself walking down the half-aisle of cheap breakable little kids’ toys, looking totally out of place, because, honey, ain’t nobody gonna think I’m a young mom, and grandmas are supposed to buy the expensive things the young parents can’t afford, right?

Twice up and down, and then I went and looked for someone to ask.

There was a young guy at work in the next aisle, certainly willing to peel off from the older woman I took to be his supervisor and to come help me find it but looking like the day was one of those where work just drags on and on.

And then I told him *why* I was looking for a Slinky. To hang from the awning, an old Easter basket hung from it, and put nuts in it for the squirrels to have at it.

He looked at me like he was going to die laughing any moment, but first he had to make sure I was serious.  His eyes and mine met.  Both twinkling now: I was serious.

I came away with the impression I’d just given him his funniest-customer-ever story.  I’m dying to know if he bought the next Slinky himself.

It stretches a bit much and a bit far for that basket, so right now we’re making do with a clear plastic cup so they can see what they’re missing.  So far, the set-up has been the most effective squirrel repellent you could imagine. Okay, well, I’ll take that, too.  But hey, I’m a good sport, and I moved it away from the birdfeeder so they could at least graze underneath the finches while they acclimate.

Give them a day. Just one day.  And then maybe I can shorten the thing and add that basket after all that they won’t be able to see into from below.

Just putting a spring in their step, is all.