One of my top work avoidance strategies is gazing moonily out the window.* Due to my low IQ, I don't need much action. I sense my distant clients pacing the floor and smoking as they await the arrival of their newborn documents. Yet, I goggle out at the backyard, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed, fascinated by a few moving leaves, a bumblebee, etc. It is one of the may reasons I feel a kinship with Homer Simpson.
One day, a strikingly chubby squirrel wandered into the perimeter of my vacant stare. His bright yellow collar (?!) made him stand out from the rest of the demonic horde of pot-bellied, furry Viking squirrels who pillage, vandalize, and sack the 'hood.
I like theories. So, first I thought, "Maybe it's that little yellow plastic thingy that goes around a plastic milk jug. But, how is it stuck there?" Then, I thought, "I bet he is a pet squirrel of one of the roofing guys. That's it. He's a pet racing squirrel, and the roofer whistles to him when it's time to go home." There's a big leap between the two theories, but somehow the second one seemed plausible, probably because when I was a tot I read too many children's books about wild animals as pets.
None of my friends believed me. So, I lay in wait for the squirrel to get photographic evidence." As you might imagine, this also turned into a work avoidance strategy, and the little effer eluded me each and every time. He treated me like contemptible paparazzi, in fact. He streaked by the window too fast (confirming my theory that he was a pet racing squirrel), hid his collar, or I got a great photo of a squirrel with no collar.
Then, I got this picture. And I'm still asking myself: Is this squirrel wearing a collar? And what the hell is he doing conferring with the other squirrel on the back of the tree? A mystery for our times...Excuse me. There's something I must look at outside.
