sac·cha·rine

I was pretty sure it was all the rain lately responsible for tipping my freshly planted succulents on their sides. This was my logic. 

At about seven this morning, I woke to a rumbling just outside my window. Someone was on the fire escape. All that stood between me and this invader was my screen. In a less than clever response to potentially imminent danger, I pulled back the curtain, unarmed.

It was a goddam fucking squirrel. He looked up at me, making eye contact while perched on my dollar store planter. His tiny claw hands curled up in fists, he punched into the soil, ripping up roots arbitrarily. I lept up and pushed up the screen to do I don’t know what. He bitchy-danced up the stairs and away from my empty threat. I shook my fist at the sky like Dennis The Menace’s grumpy man neighbor and retreated back inside to research.

After minimal Googling (“natural squirrel repellant”), I found what seemed to be an easy, few ingredient recipe for squirrel mace. I used it as more of a guideline than gospel because hey I am not made of money. Tossing in half a finely diced onion to a boiling pot of water, I began to feel pretty smug. I was going to defend this furry asshole (do not put a mental image to that) without killing him even though he probably deserves it for such mindless destruction. Then I poured a long two-count of red pepper flakes and my ego deflated, punctured by manic coughs and heavy-flowing tears.

Apparently squirrel mace works on people, too.

Bumping down the heat to simmer, covering the toxic broth and flipping on the fan, I called to Amanda’s rotting beagle and we waited in my room 15 minutes for it to finish… creating or whatever. After, I set it out on the fire escape to cool and also to avoid suffocating myself, the dog and the just-off-work Alanna.

Since I don’t have a spray bottle (remember, the whole being made of cheap beer and water and not money thing), I used a ladle to drip the mixture along the plants. This tool might have not been the best choice, as it really limited my control over the soupy stuff (thus also splashing enough on my freshly-shaved legs to make it smart impressively bad).

And now we wait. And see if that little fink tries anything funny in my garden again. 

In the meantime, I think I will use the leftover squirrel mace to make some brown rice.  Cheers.