I came home from work Monday night and went through the usual routine.
After greeting Laura I dragged my gym bag to the basement to toss my sweaty stuff in the laundry. I flipped on the laundry room light and two beady, nervous eyes stared back. It’s not every day you see a chipmunk standing on your washing machine.
First reaction: This isn’t a good thing. A rodent by any other name is still a rodent. And this is a rodent.
The chipmunk was staring up at the small window. I was staring at the open washing machine wondering if there was some way I could knock the critter into the drum and close the top. Neither of us got what we were wishing for.
Alvin – let’s call him Alvin – jumped to the floor and disappeared into the labyrinth of basement that unfolds from easy access from the unfinished walls of the laundry room. Continue reading