As I may have
bitched about mentioned earlier, my husband travels every few weeks for work. This week he is in San Francisco, staying in Union Square, and thoughtfully texted me a picture of the beautiful holiday scene right out his hotel window:
I’m sure that he sent that picture because he missed me and wanted to share his holiday cheer, and not at all to rub it in my face that he was on a mini-vacation in a beautiful city. Well, little did he know that at the precise moment he sent me that picture, I was watching my own extremely interesting scene:
That is a squirrel humping an empty peanut butter jar on the street in front of my house this morning.
At first, I thought, “Oh, how adorable, the squirrel found an old peanut butter jar and is having a delicious snack.” But then I walked a little closer and noticed that the lid was still on. And the squirrel was, um, on top of the jar. Making angry, high-pitched grunting sounds. Before I realized that this scene was not as adorable as it first appeared, I pulled out my phone and took some pictures, and then once I figured out what was going on I felt like a total perv. (But not so pervy that I deleted the pictures, obvs. You’re welcome!) Then I tried to run to my neighbor’s house so she could see this — I mean, she took care of my kids while I was totally incapacitated, the least I can do is show her a real live squirrel humping a peanut butter jar. But as soon as I made a step towards my neighbor’s house, the squirrel ran away. Dragging his beloved jar behind him.
Maybe he was just trying really hard to get the lid off. I will avoid all of the very obvious and highly inappropriate sentences that I could write after that one. Anyways, that’ll teach my husband to send me pictures of his fancy-schmancy work trip. Or maybe it will encourage him. Dammit.