The Party's Over, Pal

My office sits just below my attic, and I'm here listening to a potential break-in. No need to call 911; I'm safe. What I'm hearing is a very single-minded squirrel trying to get back in, after he or she discovered that the hole they'd made, that allowed them (and their friends?) to tear down and cart off much of my insulation, has been plugged. Sorry, Charlie (or Charlene). Nothing behind Door #1 for you anymore.

What keeps distracting me is that this thing is so persistent. It really doesn't stop trying. It doesn't take time out for coffee, or to shoot the breeze on the phone with a friend, or to go stare into the mirror and think, "I don't even look my age" (not that anyone writing this post would ever do that). It just keeps working on that patch of the house that yawned open before (it was a small yawn, thank goodness) but yawns no more.

I heard it yesterday, and the day before that, and I daresay that at some point it will succeed, even though there's a metal plate up there now to further impede another intrusion. I can't help but think how many impossible things I might have achieved in my lifetime if I had gone at them with such focus and passion and drive.

Oh, well - I can't waste time worrying about that. It's time for me to go look in the mirror and say nice (if slightly fabricated) things to myself about my youthful appearance. 

© 2015 A Bit of Brie/Anitabrie