I was sitting at my kitchen table, deep in the middle of writing a blog piece for you guys, when T called. She was headed somewhere, I can’t remember where, and was asking for some help with her GPS. Something had gone wrong and the GPS wasn’t working. She asked me to use my phone to figure it out while she drove; to make sure she didn’t miss her exit. No pressure.
I put her on speaker phone and pulled up my GPS to see if I could walk her through getting her GPS back up and running.
She was talking about this trip and how she didn’t know how to get there, as I flipped through the options on the GPS app. She was asking me questions on how to figure it out before she came up on her exit, which was close. I was beginning to get worried she’d miss it. As the exit was coming into view, she began asking more questions.
Queue in the squirrel on the front porch. This little rascal had been terrorizing my dogs (who, for some reason, had decided that squirrels offended their honor), for weeks now. So, as I’m answering T’s questions, flipping through the app options, and silently freaking out; the dogs spot the squirrel.
You would have thought the entire FBI/SWAT team was raiding my house the way these two dogs hit my glass door. Barking, crying, growling, scratching. It’s a good thing I knew they had been rabies vaccinated, or I would have thought twice before approaching them.
“Be quiet,” I called.
I don’t know why I even wasted my breath. They couldn’t hear me. This squirrel decided to sit right in from of them on the porch, staring at them as if you say, ‘You can’t get me—na, na, na, na, na.’
That didn’t help matters, I was waiting for them to crash through the glass door. I didn’t think they could get any louder, I was wrong.
T asked me something, but I couldn’t hear it. Exit approaching.
“What,” I shouted.
She asked again, still couldn’t hear her. My door was about to cave in.
“What!”
When she asked a third time, all I could hear was something about an exit. I stood up from the table and shouted as loud as I could, “SHUT UP AND LAY DOWN!”
I yelled so loud, it echoed in the kitchen. I felt like that ‘crazy’ mom. Rescue mom, that is. Both dogs stopped barking and turned around. They looked at me, as if to say, “What’s wrong with you? Why are you yelling?”
Even the SQUIRREL outside the door stood up and looked at me like, “You need to relax, lady.”
Both dogs walked away from the door, the squirrel turned and scurried off the porch. In the now dead silence, I turned back to my phone.
“Are you still there?”
Nothing. Did she miss the exit? Lose signal? Wreck?
“Hello?”
After another moment of silence, T’s voice came through the speaker phone.
“I just pulled over and crawled into my back seat.”
“What—oh, you’re funny.”
Try to help some people and all you get is sarcasm. She has been hanging around me too long.
I put her on speaker phone and pulled up my GPS to see if I could walk her through getting her GPS back up and running.
She was talking about this trip and how she didn’t know how to get there, as I flipped through the options on the GPS app. She was asking me questions on how to figure it out before she came up on her exit, which was close. I was beginning to get worried she’d miss it. As the exit was coming into view, she began asking more questions.
Queue in the squirrel on the front porch. This little rascal had been terrorizing my dogs (who, for some reason, had decided that squirrels offended their honor), for weeks now. So, as I’m answering T’s questions, flipping through the app options, and silently freaking out; the dogs spot the squirrel.
You would have thought the entire FBI/SWAT team was raiding my house the way these two dogs hit my glass door. Barking, crying, growling, scratching. It’s a good thing I knew they had been rabies vaccinated, or I would have thought twice before approaching them.
“Be quiet,” I called.
I don’t know why I even wasted my breath. They couldn’t hear me. This squirrel decided to sit right in from of them on the porch, staring at them as if you say, ‘You can’t get me—na, na, na, na, na.’
That didn’t help matters, I was waiting for them to crash through the glass door. I didn’t think they could get any louder, I was wrong.
T asked me something, but I couldn’t hear it. Exit approaching.
“What,” I shouted.
She asked again, still couldn’t hear her. My door was about to cave in.
“What!”
When she asked a third time, all I could hear was something about an exit. I stood up from the table and shouted as loud as I could, “SHUT UP AND LAY DOWN!”
I yelled so loud, it echoed in the kitchen. I felt like that ‘crazy’ mom. Rescue mom, that is. Both dogs stopped barking and turned around. They looked at me, as if to say, “What’s wrong with you? Why are you yelling?”
Even the SQUIRREL outside the door stood up and looked at me like, “You need to relax, lady.”
Both dogs walked away from the door, the squirrel turned and scurried off the porch. In the now dead silence, I turned back to my phone.
“Are you still there?”
Nothing. Did she miss the exit? Lose signal? Wreck?
“Hello?”
After another moment of silence, T’s voice came through the speaker phone.
“I just pulled over and crawled into my back seat.”
“What—oh, you’re funny.”
Try to help some people and all you get is sarcasm. She has been hanging around me too long.
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