Bob and Janice and #squirrelwatch2013

There are two squirrels living in the box elder tree in our backyard—Bob and Janice. They have returned to their home after a winter of hibernation only to find that the neighborhood has gone to hell in a hand basket. (Most notably, there is a plastic grocery bag waving from one of the tree branches nearby, which is not a symbol of classiness, even among squirrels.) Janice is very cross with Bob about all of this, and the first time I saw her, she was on the far end of one branch tapping her foot angrily at Bob, who was at the opposite side of the tree waving his front paws about in a gesture of helplessness.

"BOB." [tap tap tap tap] "Bob, this neighborhood is not what it used to be. I can't be seen here, Bob. BOB, what are you going to do about this?"

"I'm sorry, honey. The housing market isn't what it used to be. The Hendersons' tree was bulldozed just last year, and now look at them. We should be grateful to have a home, dear."

"I don't care, Bob. I want to move. Sally Skinnytail said her husband said that now is the time to invest, and I think he's right." [tap tap tap tap]

"The only available real estate nearby is that new sapling under construction, and it won't have room for a growing family like ours. The rent on a place like that is going to be way out of our price range anyway. You know we have to be careful with our budget after the winter."

[tap tap tap tap] "Whatever, Bob. I'm going next door to see what Sally plans to do about getting out of this wretched wasteland. Make yourself useful and find us some dinner, Bob. I don't care what it takes."

And then Janice scampered off across the fence, and Bob worked for ten whole minutes to get past all the squirrel guards to steal dinner for himself and his wife. Later in the week, he suggested they seek marital counseling, and Janice chased him around the base of the tree in a blind rage, shrieking at the top of her lungs.

Basically, I ran out of things to watch on Netflix.