This and That

B. asked me to blog about my "special day". That "special day" was a week ago, on the 15th, when I turned 29 again for the nth time. Funny, thing, B., that day wasn't too special at all. When you get to be my age, you want your birthday to come with as little fanfare (but as much money and gifts) as possible.

So, instead of focusing too much on my not-so-special day, I'll give you a run down on what happened during my not-so-special week.

Let's start with Dim vs. the Squirrels.

As I mentioned previously, I'm in an all-out war with the squirrels in my neighborhood over birdseed. I like to feed my feathered friends, but end up spending an assload of money on food that ultimately ends up in the bellies of these fuzzy-tailed rats. I finally found a baffle to attach to the shepherd's hook where the feeder is and, since then, they have had a devil of a time getting at the seed. That's good, right? Well, not entirely.

Now, they need to search for alternative sources of food. Which reminds me, by the way, don't squirrels squirrel away nuts and acorns and shit like that? Why are they eating birdfood? Jesus, the vermin have a friggin VERB named after them and they are hardly holding up their end of the bargain when it comes to word origins. There is a plethora of acorns in my yard. Eat them.

No, now, they decide they want suet.

So, lately I found my two suet baskets knocked off their hooks and on the ground open empty. Which baffles me, because I am a human being with opposable thumbs and I have a terrible time getting those fucking contraptions open to load in more grub, but apparently, the squirrels in my 'hood spend a lot of time working the Playstation and have superior opposable thumb skills.

I filled the cages again in the hopes that this was a one time deal. Next morning, I awake to find one suet container again, on the ground and empty. That's good news, right? Only one on the ground?

Not exactly.

The other one. Is MISSING. Completely gone. Ripped from its chain and vanished into thin air. Nowhere to be found. Now, I'm starting to worry that the serial killer who left me a headless mouse over the winter is involved.

I figure it is the squirrels again. Or a raccoon. Or a Yeti, or something, but whatever it is, I have the superior brain power and no suet stealer is going to outwit me.

So, I spend a couple of extra clams and buy a sturdier suet container. This one doesn't have chain links that can be pried apart and the latch to open it is really a bitch to work. Perfect.

Next morning, the indestructable new suet feeder is on the ground, open, and empty. I have a coniption.

I go to the local hardware store and I buy an industrial strength grappling hook that I attach to the suet container and then to the shepherd's hook directly. Then, I bought a padlock. Yes, a padlock. With keys and everything. And I put the lock around the door of the suet container, so only a person with a key (or a bobby pin) can get into it. I am the only one who knows where the key is. If the sons of bitches break into it this time, I'll swear they have hidden surveillance cameras in the house.

Now, let's move onto Dim vs. The Mouse.

As you know, we had a mouse in the house, which we caught, but we also had an elusive one in our garage that was wily enough to outwit my ingenious attempts to catch him.

So, I go to the local Lowes to buy a few mouse traps. I pass on the glue ones. I really hate it when I step in gum, so I can only imagine what this might be like for the mouse. Not to mention, my garage isn't exactly the most seal-tight carport in the world (hence, the presence of the mouse in the first place). In fact, during the fall, we actually have to RAKE our garage because of all the leaves that blow in. I didn't want all sorts of tumbleweeds and shit getting stuck on these stupid glue pads.

I wasn't going to buy the traditional traps either because I really didn't want to deal with snapped necks. OK, truthfully, I didn't get them because I was scared of tripping it myself while trying to set it and having it snare my thumb and having that one digit that makes me superior to the squirrels turn a hundred shades of crimson and swell to 50 times its normal size like it does in the cartoons.

So, I went with a humane catch and release trap. Pretty cleverly designed, you put an attractive on the rear door and when the mouse enters the trap, its weight acts like a see saw and the front door closes him in. Easy to set, easy to see if it caught something. I pick this one.

I get it home and read the Ikea-esque instructions on how to set it up. It literally takes me a half hour to figure out. The instructions have 2 steps. Step 1 is take it out of the box. Step 2 shows it all set up with a cartoon mouse with it's ass hanging out of the trap. I'm befuddled.

I finally figure it out and start looking for the mouse pheromones or whatever only to find that the shit is not included. Nice. So now, I am smearing peanut butter on the trap door and cursing whoever made these friggin things.

I set two traps out in the garage.

Next morning, I go out and I'll de dipped, but I caught it. I pick the trap up and start walking out toward the woods. I drop the trap on the lawn by mistake. The trap doesn't open, but the mouse inside experiences a fall comparable to one of us being thrown off the Empire State Building.

I walk pretty far into the woods and open the trap, expecting the mouse to haul ass, stopping to thank me for not making it sticky, or breaking his neck, before scurrying off to never bother me again.

Only nothing comes out.

So, I start shaking the trap trying to get it out.

Finally, I see a tail and the hind legs, so I grab the thing (yes, I was wearing gloves), and help it out. The frigging thing is COVERED in peanut butter and traumatized so much that you would have thought I subjected him to naked pictures of Bea Arthur while he was in there.

I left him and the poor guy wasn't in great shape, but maybe he made it. If he did, I'm sure I'll find him in my garage again pretty soon.

In terms of things on my actual birthday, nothing much happened. I worked from home as I usually do on Thursdays. I cleaned the house because it was due. Xteen came home from work and went to her Tai Chi class, which I think is Chinese for "Expensive hobby where we make round eye do goofy things in srow motion so people think something wrong in the head like Corky in Rife Goes On." And before you get all pissy over this, all I have to say is "Relax...it's just a joke." (Please note: by "relax", I really mean "relax"...not "lelax", which would make sense in horrible stereotype, but, alas, isn't a real word.)

Xteen comes home from Slow Motion Kung Fu, which I guess will work if your attacker moves equally briskly. Xteen attempts to combat my skepticism by asking me to lunge at her. I quarter-heartedly make some sort of aggresive, yet ambivalent, move toward her which she emphatically thwarts with a half-speed karate chop. I bow in concession and tell her to paint the fence, Daniel-san.

Then, we eat leftovers for dinner.

Over the weekend, I did get my birthday dinner at a restaurant of my choosing, which was very good. Only problem is that this feast came immediately upon the heels of six hours of mulching the yard.

Which brings me to Dim vs. the Honest and Forgetful Mulch Guy.

We ordered this mulch a couple of weeks ago. The dude said that if he didn't deliver it by Wednesday, to call and remind him. Wednesday night I come home, no mulch. So Thursday morning, I call him and said he would be here within the hour. Eight seconds after that, he calls back and says something came up and he'll be a little while. 5:00 rolls around...no mulch. I called him back and he said he forgot. But, he'll deliver it on Friday.

Friday, we come home to...you guessed it. No mulch. I call him back and he again admits to forgetting, prefacing it with, "Look, I'm not gonna lie to you and make something up...I forgot." At this point, I almost told him that you might want to contemplate the benefits of a little white lie when honesty only exposes your ineptitude.

But Saturday, we have mulch! And a back ache. I'm getting old.

- Dim.