DIGGING OUT (Togetherness in death)

The other day, TLW (The Little Woman) announced to me (Who else?).

“If we are to sell this house, we have to clean out the shed.

Me: “Oh! Well I was planning to take the shed with us.”

“You’d still need to clean it out!”

Me: “Couldn’t we just lock it up and sell it, and say we lost the key?”

“No, and you have to do it yourself.”

Me: “I do?”

“Yes, I think there is a dead animal in there! I’m sorry, but you have to do it!”

That last statement is a stipulation in the wedding contract, the verbal one, and the last chance I had to really open my mouth. It states: “For Better Or For Worse.” This is the “worse” portion of the contract.

I decided to act like a man this time and said, without hesitation: “YES DEAR!”

After all, she needs to know where I stand on things like that.

“Another thing, you will need to separate the different things so we can put them to the curb.”

Silently I prayed: “Please Lord, put me to the curb, I’ll go quietly, as long as I don’t have to clean the shed.”

The big day arrived, TLW was at work, the day was beautiful, and I didn’t want to do it.

There is a shelf, about 4 feet deep and about 10 feet long at the right side of the shed. Up there we keep all the lawn chemicals, including both wet and dry. If a squirrel were to nest, there is where he or she would go to do so. (It is very important to be gender correct when discussing squirrels!)

In this treasure chest of past nightmares sits old lawn mowers, trimmers, tools shingles cement and anything else I couldn’t put in my pocket when done with it and get it washed later in the laundry. (TLW feels it is my responsibility to clean out my pockets before they go into the hamper. She will do the wallet.)

And so I begin, a broom in hand a big old shovel and some garbage cans. I start pulling things out and separating them: keeper and garbage. I start to look up into the shelf, and realize I am staring at what looks like a dead bird’s claw. I think to myself: why didn’t I stand up to her and cry. If I cried she might have taken pity on me. On closer inspection, I realize it is a dead squirrel! I pull him out and put him in the garbage can, and cautiously inspect the shelf for more and clean off the shelf without finding anything else.

Beginning on the floor I start to move things around and notice, there is another dead squirrel! So this was a family affair, and at least they died together, and will be buried in the same garbage can!