Or almost. A matter of days at most. I prepare the victory feast even as we speak.
Victory over parasites. Victory over the hated invaders.
Victory over the squirrels!!!!
Yes, it's so close I can taste it. New roof? Check. ("A lot of squirrel damage, lady. I don't know how the shingles stayed up there.") Oak trees trimmed? Starts this week. And for good measure today I talk to a "wildlife management" specialist. Formerly referred to as an "exterminator."
Isn't that a beautiful word? EX TER MIN A TOR. Powerful yet succinct. Gotta love it.
And I dream of a squirrel-free attic at last. Oh bliss. Oh carnage! OK, relocation. They're not actually allowed to kill the squirrels. They move them 16 miles away, which apparently is farther than even the canniest homing squirrel can manage. I'll settle for "deportation." Has a nice, evil ring to it. Or maybe "transportation." As in, to Botany Bay.
Which I believe is located somewhere in Wisconsin.