Confessions

I have a confession to make. Hardly anyone knows this about me, and it's really pretty embarrassing.

I don't mind snakes and spiders don't bother me either, unless they're hovering over my head. I'm not squeamish and I seldom scream. I don't have any surgical enhancements and there aren't any skeletons in my closet. I haven't been a bad girl except for eating an entire bag of Poore Brothers Steak and Onion potato chips from time to time. There are no illicit relationships, no hidden marriages, I haven't left any babies on a doorstep. I'm of no interest to either Oprah or Jerry.

But I do have a deep, dark secret I carry around with me. It's a dreadful burden, considering where I live and especially where I hope to move someday. It's the sort of thing you just can't tell people unless you can handle a look of withering pity in their eyes. There is no therapy program for me, no self-help book tackles the problem and I can google it all day long and never get a hit. I am all alone in my struggle.

I am absolutely grossed-out by, petrified of, mortified by...............................................................

......................................................................................squirrels.



You can quit laughing now. It ain't that funny. The little boogers just creep me RIGHT OUT. Fluffy tailed rats. Ugh. I ought to put a picture of a squirrel in here, just for emphasis, but I decline. I don't even mind mice if they stay out of my house, but squirrels? EEEeeewwwww!

I can hear you now: "But squirrels are cute!" Yeah? Not! I can argue that they are destructive little acrobatic terrors, but that's only justification. The truth is, the little wretches make my skin crawl for no good reason except that they are what they are.

There. It's out. I said it. I guess squirrels all over North America are going to be sending me hate-mail now, and pelting my house with acorns and pinon nuts. Squirrel-lovers are going to tell me I'm a species-ist and should be ashamed of being so unenlightened and small-minded. I'm sticking to my guns. You can love them if you want to. Me, I think I'll keep the rubber-band pistol handy.


Playing along at Freefringes!