Yesterday was a whirlwind, beginning with spotty internet and then me leaving for my hair appointment, a necessity interrupting my day.
While I was at my hair technician’s home, where she moved her salon once Covid hit, I said to her, “You have a squirrel on your deck.” The little guy was quite frisky. She bemoaned the neighbor feeding them, and then I said, “They ate my cushions on the front porch one year.”
No less then five minutes after my comment, she looks out and goes, “What the heck?” There was white fluff flying and a squirrel staring her down, stuffing his mouth with stuffing. He was nonplussed, she was in shock. We brought the two cushions in that had holes, even though I encouraged bringing them all in. You guessed it….five minutes later, the guy was back and had ripped another hole in a new cushion. This time we brought them all in.
All of this was accomplished in between her cutting my hair – which turned out fine, as she apparently remembered where she left off. Eight years she had never had a squirrel damage her cushions, and then I happen to mention my squirrel trauma.
I didn’t comment on how vindictive they are and that possibly they were following me. It’s too difficult to find another hair magician.