Monday, November 27, 2006
Lessons in Pest Removal
Thanksgiving was good. I was a little upset that I had to interrupt my long weekend of relaxation in NH with a trip back to Needham for a few hours of work, but it turned out okay.
On Thanksgiving, I was talking about how I almost certainly have squirrels in the attic space surrounding my room. Grampa Cliff mentioned that he too had once been faced with squirrel issues. He mentioned that one time he woke up in his room, only to discover a bat hanging from the ceiling. The procedure for bat removal was simple, he assured me:
1. Get a brown paper bag
2. Climb up on the bed
3. Put the paper bag around the bat, and remove from ceiling
I'm pretty sure that my solution to a bat hanging from my ceiling at night would be something more along these lines:
1. Scream like a woman
2. Run out of the room
3. Sleep on the couch
Grampa Cliff was in the Marines, but it has come to my attention over the years that I have inherited none of the courage, confidence, and bravado possessed by a military man. I'm almost certain that Grampa has never screamed like a woman before -- a fact I cannot claim to be true of myself, particularly following an incident witnessed by Sarah Adams on the FreeFall (see below) at Six Flags. Anybody who has seen me play paintball will attest to the fact that I would, in fact, make a terrible soldier. I still remember travelling down from UNH with Jack to play paintball with Irf and some of his brother's friends in Boston. It was an indoor facility and both teams started at opposing ends for a game of capture the flag. They sounded the horn to start the game and everybody ran out from behind our base kamikaze style, as the crack of the paintballs
hitting our base echoed through the room. Not opting to be hit immediately, I stood still behind our base. When I turned to see how many of our teammates were still with me, it was just Irf, who looked equally unexcited to be shot at.
In the meantime, Jack was on the frontlines collecting "surrenders", which involved getting so close to a person with your gun pointed at them that you relieve them of getting hit point blank and just yell "surrender!". I found that from the distance I was at, nobody could even hear me yell "surrender". Throughout our games, I ventured out from behind the base once in a while, but was rarely effective for our team's sake. Late in the game, the opposing team made a run for our base. It was then that I realized I had nowhere to run. I made a few futile attempts to pick off my opponent as he ran toward us, but he rounded the corner and stood just feet away from me with no cover between us. I panicked and lifted my foot in the air from my kneeling position on the 3 foot tall platform. I guess my instincts were to get hit in foot rather than the face, but my instincts were wrong. As I lifted my leg and turned away, I just heard the "THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!" sound made by three paintballs as they pelted my undercarriage. I'd rather be shot in the face.
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On Thanksgiving, I was talking about how I almost certainly have squirrels in the attic space surrounding my room. Grampa Cliff mentioned that he too had once been faced with squirrel issues. He mentioned that one time he woke up in his room, only to discover a bat hanging from the ceiling. The procedure for bat removal was simple, he assured me:
1. Get a brown paper bag
2. Climb up on the bed
3. Put the paper bag around the bat, and remove from ceiling
I'm pretty sure that my solution to a bat hanging from my ceiling at night would be something more along these lines:
1. Scream like a woman
2. Run out of the room
3. Sleep on the couch
Grampa Cliff was in the Marines, but it has come to my attention over the years that I have inherited none of the courage, confidence, and bravado possessed by a military man. I'm almost certain that Grampa has never screamed like a woman before -- a fact I cannot claim to be true of myself, particularly following an incident witnessed by Sarah Adams on the FreeFall (see below) at Six Flags. Anybody who has seen me play paintball will attest to the fact that I would, in fact, make a terrible soldier. I still remember travelling down from UNH with Jack to play paintball with Irf and some of his brother's friends in Boston. It was an indoor facility and both teams started at opposing ends for a game of capture the flag. They sounded the horn to start the game and everybody ran out from behind our base kamikaze style, as the crack of the paintballs
hitting our base echoed through the room. Not opting to be hit immediately, I stood still behind our base. When I turned to see how many of our teammates were still with me, it was just Irf, who looked equally unexcited to be shot at.In the meantime, Jack was on the frontlines collecting "surrenders", which involved getting so close to a person with your gun pointed at them that you relieve them of getting hit point blank and just yell "surrender!". I found that from the distance I was at, nobody could even hear me yell "surrender". Throughout our games, I ventured out from behind the base once in a while, but was rarely effective for our team's sake. Late in the game, the opposing team made a run for our base. It was then that I realized I had nowhere to run. I made a few futile attempts to pick off my opponent as he ran toward us, but he rounded the corner and stood just feet away from me with no cover between us. I panicked and lifted my foot in the air from my kneeling position on the 3 foot tall platform. I guess my instincts were to get hit in foot rather than the face, but my instincts were wrong. As I lifted my leg and turned away, I just heard the "THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!" sound made by three paintballs as they pelted my undercarriage. I'd rather be shot in the face.
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